


Five-fingers sure

by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Happy Ending, He's also an Alpha werewolf, Heat Sex, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 03, Rimming, Roleplay Logs, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee
Summary: He just narrows his eyes and then growls out, "you're in Heat, dumbass. You're presenting. I could smell your slick from across the room."Which... is absolutely not what Derek meant to admit. He's actually kind of horrified, because he just basically did the equivalent of unkindly pointing out someone's tented jeans. Shit.[In which fairies kick Derek's ass, Stiles discovers he'snota Beta but in fact an Omega and oops, he's having his first Heat. Good thing Derek is around to help...]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just wanna write somewhat sweet but still filthy ABO first time Sterek smut, okay? ;D This is 99.8% done, just need to edit the next chapter, so that'll be done sometime in the coming weeks.
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : This is another merrythoughts & ReallyMissCoffee production. In case you don't know us, just a heads up: this is written first and foremost as an alternating roleplay between us which doesn't necessarily translate smoothly into an easily digestible or traditional fic format. At times we can be pretentious, repetitive and annoyingly wordy, but we're not going to change so please forgo any "constructive criticism" regarding the format. We are choosing to share our work and if you like it, you like it, if not, press the back button and try something else as we have no interest in attempting to fic-ify our stories.

Ever since his best friend had got himself bit by a then-crazed werewolf there's never been a dull moment in Stiles Stilinski's life. So, the supernatural realm exists, as do werewolves, kanimas, druids, a magical tree, kitsunes, hunters and other lurking threats... It's been a lot to take in, a whirlwind really, but Stiles has his dad, the pack and his friends (although their numbers have dwindled in both areas). 

Stiles isn't special. He's not a werewolf. He's a human. He's a human _Beta_ at that. Stiles used to think that he wanted to be stronger, that he wanted to be able to help more and do the things that Scott or Derek could do, but no, not anymore. How could he ever trust himself after the nogitsune? Stiles doesn't want to feel like that ever again, all that power crackling like lightning waiting to strike and lash out. No, he'd rather be his apparent wimpy geeky self.

He's twenty years old and lives at home still. Stiles doesn't mind. He loves his dad and who else would keep an eye on him? Stiles is the only one really qualified. He doesn't know what he wants to "be" when he grows up, so it makes sense to just work (so he's a glorified barista but whatever, he rocks that steam wand okay). He's been taking a few online courses here and there too. He likes being available to help the pack and if the only help he can do is to research and, at times, mother the pack, so be it.

But there's something just a little off with Stiles right now. He doesn't know what it is, but it's fucking annoying because he has work to do and feeling off is distracting. He's distinctly uncomfortable and every so often it feels like there are ants crawling over his skin (totally gross). Stiles wonders if he's getting sick, maybe a fever because he's running hot. He's already stripped off his plaid button-up shirt (which still doesn't seem to be helping much). He doesn't have time for a fever, thanks. There's research to do because there are troublemaking fairies flitting about.

It had been both amusing and rather hilarious to see Derek attempt to fight them off. Round one hadn't gone so well. 1-0 for the fairies so far! Derek had growled his displeasure, ordering him to leave and get busy with some research instead of laughing. While Stiles could have done the research at home, how could he miss an opportunity to make fun of Derek?

He couldn't. So he's at Derek's loft, sprawled out on the lumpy sofa and trying his best to stay focused and stare at his laptop's screen. Derek isn't back yet, but this isn't the first time Stiles has helped himself to hanging out at the loft and it won't be the last. It's the pack's unofficial clubhouse (not that Stiles will ever call it that in front of any of the wolves). 

Stiles rubs a hand through his sweaty hair and blinks, trying to re-focus himself to read the words on his screen, but it's not going so well.

* * *

Fucking fairies. The mantra burns like fire under Derek's skin as he races around the perimeter of the preserve, his eyes narrowed and his head lifted to catch any stray scent. The pack has handled so many damn threats in the past few years, and Derek's not about to say that he's been the poster child for being a badass in any sense of the word; he's an Alpha, but he's barely holding on and he's pretty sure the pack knows that. 

There's something about this particular threat that's been burning under his skin, though, and not just because Stiles had laughed until he'd cried when Derek had come back looking rumpled, a little bloodied, and highly pissed off. The worst of it is that Stiles had seen the fight, had seen Derek's failed attempt to use his claws, and the way the damn fairies had loved prodding him with their little magical zaps. He still feels like he needs a shower.

It's not the most obnoxious threat they've ever been through, but people are disappearing. Deaton has insisted that these fairies aren't the type to kill their captives, but it's the principle of the matter. Derek's run his claws over offending Alphas, a kanima, and he's taken more than a single shot at a nogitsune and a handful of other threats that have approached them over the years - shapeshifters, other werewolves, a vampire in one memorable occasion. But the fact that he'd gotten his ass handed to him by a few giggling _fairies_ is still burning hotly under his skin. 

Stiles had laughed, and Derek had snapped at him, had demanded he get his ass to work, because it's easier snapping at Stiles than admitting to a squirm of embarrassment. Derek can be a piss-poor excuse for an Alpha sometimes, but he doesn't like the pack knowing that. 

So, both to cool off and to keep an eye on the situation, he'd taken off on a run to do recon. It had eventually just turned into a real run of sorts and Derek's embarrassment fades into anger as he goes, but it still helps. There are no signs of the damn things as he goes, and when he's finally more exhausted and sweaty and ready for a real shower and a night to sleep the residual shame away, he gathers himself back up and takes off for his loft.

It's been a good three hours since he'd snapped at Stiles, and Derek still isn't sure how he feels about that. The human Beta is annoying, but he's at least reliable. Derek knows that even if Stiles is pissed at him, Stiles will do the damn research. It's at least a comforting thought to know he'll have answers, even if Plan A hadn't worked. 

Derek's thoughts are on the disastrous fight when he ascends the elevator to his loft, his mind elsewhere. He doesn't think as he grabs his keys to unlock what Peter has scathingly taken to calling 'The Penthouse' (fuck him, it _is_ a penthouse) and he's distracted all the way up until he steps a single foot into the loft.

Then the scent hits him and Derek chokes back a sound of surprise. He freezes and he drops his keys on the floor, a loud clattering sound, but he can't help it. His loft carries the scent of his pack, but Derek's scent is always the strongest. He's not only an Alpha in gender, but an Alpha in the pack, and this is his space. 

But now... now the air is thick and sweet, filled with a scent so rich that it seems to seep into Derek's pores and tug insistently at his skin. He feels suddenly aware, suddenly on edge, and a little dizzy, because he knows the scent on the air, but _Stiles'_ scent is mixed into it too. Derek stands dumbly for a moment, wrapped in the scent of fucking honeyed sweetness, like vanilla sugar cookies, and the scent of warm, fresh cut grass and... sex. 

Then he steps into the open space, closing the door behind him. He locks the deadbolt, his keys left on the floor, and he turns his head just enough to catch the sight of Stiles on Derek's sofa. Derek immediately feels a small spark of embarrassment, but it's quickly overtaken by the scent. Smelling the air, Derek wanders over, and it doesn't take him long to see that Stiles isn't wearing the layers he normally does, and that Stiles' hair is matted down with sweat. Derek's beginning to put two and two together. He wets suddenly-dry lips and tries to muster a growl, but it's distracted. 

"Are you okay? You smell... weird."

Which is, Derek knows, likely the stupidest thing he's ever said, and there are many contenders. He's not good at being subtle.

* * *

Stiles must be coming down with something. Or maybe Derek has the heat turned on for some reason (which doesn't make any sense because werewolves run hot anyway). While Stiles sometimes gets the stray cold, he's not one for the flu or a fever. It's weird, but his body doesn't seem to care if that's the case. Stiles shakes his head, clenching his jaw and wiggling his fingers above the laptop's keyboard in an attempt to re-focus. 

It feels like he's been attempting to re-focus for hours now and it's difficult to not get a little agitated because of it. It's annoying. While Stiles hardly feels an immense amount of pressure to find an answer for dealing with the pesky _fairies_ , he knows that people disappearing is a problem. Of course, disappearances aren't outright destruction and death. Deaton has told them that fairies aren't malevolent as much as tricksters, but Stiles knows all too well that games can turn dangerous.

Stiles gives an exasperated huff as he squirms. He feels disgustingly sweaty for no good reason. His t-shirt is sticking to him and he doesn't even want to think about his jeans or boxers. He could grab a shower. Derek's loosened up quite a bit over the years with the clubhouse being transformed into something more hospitable for a pack of wolves plus the occasional human or banshee that pops in, so him having a shower isn't a big deal. 

A sudden clattering distracts Stiles and he jumps, his head darting up. It's Derek. And for whatever reason, Stiles' body seems to take his presence as a favorable thing, the agitation and discomfort dulling slightly. Stiles doesn't have time to consider the respite as Derek strides in, looking ever the picture of a disgraced dirty werewolf who got his ass handed to him by fairies. Stiles wants to comment, but instead, his eyes are glued on Derek, as if transfixed for some dumb reason. Derek's always been something nice to look at, Stiles' own wankbank material in the flesh, but this feels a little different.

Then Derek speaks and Stiles snaps out of it. 

"I smell weird? Stop smelling me then," Stiles blurts back without thought. He knows it's not that simple given that werewolves have superior senses but it's the principal of the thing. "I think I'm getting sick," he adds on with a shrug.

* * *

Stiles isn't getting sick. Derek can smell sick, and that isn't the scent that he smells now. What he smells now is sweet and addicting and unsettlingly familiar. Derek's not always been an Alpha in status, but he's always been one in gender, and he knows this warm, honeyed scent. He'd smelled it a few times in New York, particularly in the evenings, where people walked the streets with skimpy clothing and synthetic Heat scent to try and turn a quick buck. Derek's smelled it authentically a few times, but never this close, and never this sudden or concentrated. He'd only been gone for a few hours, and Stiles definitely hadn't smelled like this when he'd left.

But he does now. Derek's tongue feels tangled over the words he _wants_ to say, but nothing comes to mind immediately. Stiles smells good, which is... a problem, because Derek secretly enjoys Stiles' normal scent a little too much to be completely impartial as it is. They've grown closer over the years. Shared trauma and living on the edge can do that. And while they butt heads and Stiles still taunts and Derek still growls and sometimes slams Stiles into things, it's lost its snarling edge over the years. Derek knows he can count on Stiles. That means something.

He wants to say that it means enough that he manages to keep himself in check here, but there are certain things beyond his control. Stiles' answer is quick and deflective and Derek snorts immediately in dismissal. He shifts from foot to foot, uncharacteristically agitated, and when he breathes in again, Stiles' scent seems to cling to the back of his throat, seeping down into his skin. Derek gives his head a quick shake to clear it and switches to breathing in through his mouth. He steps in closer, stubborn despite himself, and when he looks Stiles over, it becomes really obvious that he's right.

Stiles' scent is thick, his pupils are blown, his skin is flushed, and while Derek can't see where he's seated on the couch... he definitely smells slick. Which makes no sense. Stiles had never presented when he'd been in his late teens; everyone had always - rightly - assumed him to be a Beta. Derek sure as fuck had. But there's no mistaking this. 

"You're not getting sick. You don't smell sick," Derek says, clipped but a little awkward, still a little dazed. He leans in, breathing in Stiles' scent through his mouth, and the air fucking tastes sweet. "How fast did this come on? Did you know?"

* * *

Getting sick is the only thing that makes sense. Stiles hadn't had any direct contact with the fairies - that had been all Derek - so he doesn't think it's some fairy glitter magic that had been cast his way. Unlike werewolves, humans actually get sick. This is just another reminder why being a human can suck at times. Even so, Stiles wants to believe that being human - _remaining_ human - offers a unique perspective. He's never asked for the bite. He's been tempted, but Stiles wants to be _enough_ as he is. He wants to be accepted as he is.

Despite beginning to fall ill, Stiles hadn't considered going home. He actually feels comfortable enough to be sick around Derek. He's done it before at least. Derek has been around him when he'd been stuffed up and blowing his nose like a maniac but still furiously trying to help Derek come up with a plan. Granted, that had been Derek in his room, discarded used tissues piling up around Stiles on his bed as Derek had all but paced around his bedroom. This is his sick-ass now in Derek's space but c'mon. He's gotta get a few jabs about the fairies in before he trudges off home. 

Stiles watches an agitated Derek, but Sourwolf never likes getting his ass beat, so Stiles assumes the mood is related to the fairy incident. After a head shake, Derek steps closer to him and Stiles' fingers bounce on the keyboard until he's slammed with arousal and he tenses. 

While it's not uncommon to sometimes get aroused by Derek or even other members of the pack, this feels more intense, this is like need thrumming through him. Stiles is constantly surrounded by attractive people and sometimes he goes through dry spells where he's not getting any so they look more appealing at times. 

Maybe this is one of the times. It has been a while since he's got lucky. Stiles is promptly ignoring that he's a little hard.

Derek looks him over and Stiles defiantly stares back. He's _fine_. Derek undoubtedly can smell that he's got a case of the hots, but it's no big deal. It's nothing new. But Derek's words have Stiles moving his laptop to the side, preparing for some altercation because they sound accusatory. 

"Uh, hello, you're _not_ a doctor, you don't get to un-diagnose me," Stiles shoots back, glaring. "And I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know anything other than the fact that fairies kicked your ass."

* * *

Derek's having a hard time believing it, because he never would have suspected this. Stiles had always struck him as such an obnoxious Beta that he hadn't ever thought he could be any different. Scott had presented as an Alpha, and Stiles had stayed the same, and Derek hadn't thought anything of it (except thinking that Scott had grown even more annoying over time, particularly with his loud questions and his sappy mooning over others in the pack). 

Now, though... now he's thinking. Now he's scenting the air and feeling his instincts tug at him like a dog on a leash. Derek feels kind of thick-headed, which definitely isn't helping, and he knows he needs to get Stiles somewhere else and pretty quickly.

It only gets worse (better?) when Derek gets closer, because he gets a sudden flood of Stiles' scent, warm and heady and really damn awkward, because while Derek's had thoughts before, he's tried not to have then with Stiles actually present. No such luck now though.

Even so, when Stiles responds, his voice defensive, Derek begins to wonder if Stiles knows, but it's pretty damn clear in the next second that he doesn't. Not even an ornery Omega would risk insulting an Alpha while on their Heat. Derek just stares for a moment and then growls, the sound low and annoyed. His eyes flicker an indignant red and he's suddenly aware of the dirt-sweat-blood scent he's still carrying on him. Derek's not used to feeling like he needs to be presentable. But suddenly he can't help but be a little self-conscious about it. And Stiles doesn't even seem to know.

There are a million ways that Derek could break the topic, could carefully broach the subject to Stiles. This is usually a parent's job, or at least Scott, but Stiles is here, insulting him, smelling like an indulgence, and Derek doesn't think. 

He just narrows his eyes and then growls out, "you're in Heat, dumbass. You're presenting. I could smell your slick from across the room."

Which... is absolutely not what Derek meant to admit. He's actually kind of horrified, because he just basically did the equivalent of unkindly pointing out someone's tented jeans. Shit.

* * *

Granted, this isn't the fun teasing Stiles had assumed would occur after Derek returned to the clubhouse. This is awkward and tense somehow. Everything feels a little heavier and serious (when it totally shouldn't be). Stiles doesn't understand why all of a sudden it's weird that he smells different or that he's getting sick. They all know that he's a piddly human who sometimes can't fight off the germs or viruses or whatever. It's not a big deal. It shouldn't be.

But Derek is towering over him and judging him. And then growling an annoyed sounding growl out. Nothing new, really. Stiles isn't worried. Derek may be physical with him at times, but it's never resulted in Stiles getting legitimately hurt. Usually, he's just shoved to the side or picked up and deposited on the couch. He knows Scott and Malia would have his back anyway. Stiles is like the pack's mascot and everyone knows that you don't hurt the mascot. 

But apparently, Derek feels like flashing red at him and Stiles squirms, his body, for some weirdo reason seeming to enjoy that more than it usually does. Normally it's just theatrics from Derek as he seems to favor making dramatic entrances and exits (although Stiles has a feeling that Derek doesn't even know he's doing it which is both funny and sad). Stiles' glare continues until Derek gives a retort that has Stiles mind and face blanking. 

_In Heat. Presenting. Slick._

Stiles blinks and glances down at his hands. Five fingers on each. Not dreaming. He's then bounding off the couch because one can't simply remain seated after such an assertion!

"You're delusional," Stiles replies, but his voice wavers. "I'm not an Omega. I would have had a Heat way sooner." 

He purposefully doesn't mention the whole slick thing. It's just sweat. He's sweating. He's hot.

* * *

Derek can practically hear the snide drawl of his uncle's voice in his mind, because tact is more Peter's forte than Derek's. Derek, Peter often says, has the tact of a blind, injured bull. Tact is not his strong suit, and while Derek's usually more than willing to argue his case, right now he's honestly on Peter's side. Everyone knows that you aren't supposed to mention an Omega's Heat. Werewolves in particular just have this understanding that mentioning arousal is just Not Done. It goes back to basic werewolf 101, and Derek just spat on it. He looks legitimately disgruntled with himself, and when Stiles' expression blanks, Derek grimaces. He hadn't actually meant to be an asshole that time.

Stiles, apparently deciding that he can no longer sit still for Derek's bullshit, looks down at his hands and then jumps up onto his feet. Derek takes a half-step back and he partly expects Stiles to chew him out, but... no. Instead of that, Stiles just flatly tells Derek that he's wrong, but Derek can hear the unsure skip of his pulse. He can hear Stiles' voice waver, and with Stiles this close, his scent is so damn thick. Derek blinks hard, because this... this has never happened before. Isaac is the only other Omega in the pack, and Isaac's got his schedule down pat. He actually seems to enjoy the routine of it, but this is different.

And yeah, Derek knows that Stiles has a point. This is honestly none of his business (except for the scent of Heat that's now going to be permeating his loft and his sofa) but he can't help the connections he's making. His expression pinches and he looks Stiles over slowly, wondering how he can be so damn smart and so damn stubborn at the same time. 

"Maybe under _normal_ circumstances, you would have. But..." Derek trails off, and he's half-confused, because he isn't even sure what he's going to say. Then the answer hits him, like his own instincts had been desperately scrambling to reach it. 

"You've been stressed as Hell for the past few years. Periods of intense stress can delay presenting, regardless of gender. You're human, Stiles. The others... we're made for stressful situations." 

Derek draws in another breath, slower this time. "You're definitely going into Heat, Stiles."

* * *

Derek has to be wrong. Omegas get their Heats between the ages of sixteen to eighteen and practically every household is prepared with the necessary precautions and medications to ease the symptoms before the Omega, more often than not, goes on suppressants. Even Stiles' dad had a kit just in case (although he has no idea where it is now). Back then, Stiles remembers his secondary gender being on the back burner of his mind. It had lingered over him like an unpleasant possibility amidst the normal and abnormal perils of their lives. Frankly, he'd been relieved that he hadn't presented as an Alpha or Omega. He felt like his life was complicated enough without all of that being thrown into a mix. Stiles had been happy to be a Beta.

Stiles stands his ground, his body feeling hot and worked up for no good reason. His dick is half-hard, but Stiles is blatantly ignoring it. If he ignores it, the problem should go away in time. Derek looks frustrated by him and Stiles is about to tell him that it's all mutual when he sees Derek's eyes roam over him from top to bottom and that has Stiles getting the ridiculous urge to want to turn around for Derek, to let Derek look him _all_ over. No. No. No.

When Derek speaks up, it doesn't sound as heated which helps with Stiles' own defensiveness. He listens as Derek seems to work it out. Periods of intense stress delaying presenting... It does happen. It's logical. It makes sense. Stiles has heard of it before. 

It's horrible. It's not that Stiles thinks there's something wrong with being an Omega, it's just that he thought he'd dodged that bullet. He'd believed himself to securely be a Beta. He'd accepted and adjusted to that reality. Derek is an Alpha, both as a werewolf and in terms of secondary gender. Derek would know what he smells like and that he's smelling different (not sick, but _slick_...).

"The fucking fairies turned me into an Omega!" Stiles sputters but it's an obvious joke and he can't even get behind. 

Stiles licks his lips, distress and worry evident on his features as he frowns. He clenches and unclenches his hands by his sides. Apprehension and nerves zing through him and it feels like a weird sexual panic attack because his body is definitely wanting to get frisky with Derek and stick up his ass and-- no, no, no. 

"Okay, um," Stiles begins. As he speaks, he takes a few steps as if gearing up to actually pace but before he can get into it, he stops because he feels a very obvious wetness between his ass that definitely _isn't_ sweat. "Oh my god, gross," he says for lack of anything intelligent to say. This is too much to take in and Derek is getting to witness this potential little freakout. Goody.

* * *

It makes sense. It doesn't make it easy, but it makes sense. Given everything that Stiles has been through, that he's only presenting now is inconvenient, but the more that Derek thinks about it, the more he knows he's right. Stiles hadn't just been thrown into the deep end. He'd been thrown to the wolves. Literally. And when he'd been at the age that most people begin to present, he'd been faced with the Alpha pack and his dad getting kidnapped. Then it had been the nogitsune, and... fuck. No wonder Stiles' Heat has been so delayed. 

Derek immediately feels like a legitimate ass for just blurting out what he had. And yeah, maybe he's kind of pitying Stiles now, but not because of this. Because it's Derek's fault - in a way - that Stiles had been so stressed for so long. If Derek hadn't come back, or let Kate manipulate him, Stiles would have grown up normal.

But it's too late now. Much as Derek feels the claws of guilt rake over his senses, pitying himself for being such a disruptive influence on his pack isn't going to help Stiles now. And fuck, Derek never really thought that he'd need to worry about this sort of thing, but when it comes down to it, he is the Alpha of the pack. Stiles is still his Beta in that regard, and Stiles is going through this in Derek's loft. There are a lot of unanswered questions right now and Derek wants to ask why Stiles had shown up here, but... he's not that petty. Despite his incredulity and his guilt and his distraction, Stiles is here now, had come to him, and Derek's going to do what he can.

He takes a deep breath through his mouth and then lets it out slowly through his nose, trying to focus past the honeyed scent that lingers on the air. It becomes a little easier when his instincts suddenly catch Stiles' scent shifting to distress, and Derek grimaces, then reaches over with one hand. He sets it on the back of Stiles' neck, feeling the Heat burning under his skin, but Derek's rumbling a low growl before he gives himself permission to. Stiles is still his pack, and Derek doesn't want this to be any worse than it has to be.

"Stiles. Breathe. Calm down. It's fine," he says. There's a part of him that kind of almost feels good, because Stiles came to him, even if he hadn't been aware of why. Derek will think on that later. For now, he has other things on his mind. "If you want, I can get Isaac and he can talk to you. Maybe, uh... walk you through it. Or..." Derek's expression twists a little in reluctance, but he still offers, "do you want me to call your dad to come and get you?"

* * *

It's not sweat. It feels more substantial, thicker kinda. It's slick. There's no denying it now. All the pieces are sliding into place. It's slick and he's in a Heat because his body wants to attract an Alpha and get fucked and knotted and soothed or comforted or whatever. If he was a female, it would be a biological call to mate and breed. Stiles is just happy males can't get pregnant because he'd hate to have to worry about that too. This is already too much to deal with. Ugh.

Stiles doesn't want to think about trauma or stress delaying this. It's in the past and that's where he wants to leave it. The present is far more pressing. He's at Derek's. He's been at Derek's for the past few hours, wrapped up in a familiar scent that had apparently decided to wake this up inside of him. At least his body has good taste? Derek is hot and a friend. He's saved Stiles, too. Stiles doesn't want to think about it (but he knows how it looks). 

A hand reaches out and grasps his neck and Stiles immediately feels better and slightly more settled. He'd laugh at the pathetic display if the situation wasn't so dire. But it is. A Heat is freakin' dire. A first Heat even more so. Stiles doesn't pull away from the touch. He remains and tries to not fixate on how weird it is that Derek's mere touch and presence is helping so much. 

The mention of Isaac has Stiles screwing up his face. It seems mortifying to be "walked through" anything. He took sex ed. He knows what to expect. When his dad is mentioned Stiles shakes his head vehemently. 

"No. No way. I don't want my dad seeing me like this!" Stiles near squawks. "And no Isaac, no anybody else." Stiles bites his bottom lip for a second and shuffles closer to Derek, trying his best to ignore how much his body is screaming to get closer. "Can't I just stay here?"

* * *

Stiles talking to Isaac makes sense. Derek can instruct, sure, but he knows how to fix a Heat in one way. Isaac's actually gone through it, and Derek thinks that maybe he'd be able to drop the attitude for long enough to help Stiles if the situation were dire enough. To Derek, a first Heat seems really damn dire. So he suggests Isaac, and then he immediately backtracks because Stiles' dad is important to him, and the sheriff ought to know. Derek should call him anyway, but he feels a little better now that he's given Stiles options, at least. It's something.

The issue is that despite the way Stiles had calmed under Derek's touch, the mention of Isaac and his dad only make his scent turn more distressed. Derek's growling a soft sound before he's made the decision to, his instincts drawn to soothe. It's embarrassing, in a sense. Yeah, Derek does the same thing to Isaac when Isaac's upset, but things are different with Stiles. Isaac has never really been on Derek's... radar. Christ, this is a shitshow, and Derek's reminded once again that he's still a little bloody, dirty, and definitely still sweaty from his run. 

Stiles moves closer to him, immediately denying Derek's suggestions. Derek's stuck, half-annoyed, half-nervous, because he doesn't know what else to do with an Omega in Heat, much less _Stiles_. His instincts sure have a few suggestions, but none of them are practical. Most of them have to do with the way Stiles is biting his lip, and Derek's mildly horrified to note that his jeans are feeling a little tighter. 

Which is when Stiles asks to stay, and Derek blinks owlishly, looking somewhat panicked but also desperately confused. God, he'd not been prepared for this at all.

But Stiles is still pack. Derek swallows. "Of... of course you can stay here. I'll need to call your dad to fill him in, but... I don't-- I don't have anything." Derek flips his free hand. He's almost forgotten that he's still squeezing Stiles' nape. "Any... Omega things."

* * *

Stiles wants to stay here, or rather he doesn't want to go somewhere else. He can't imagine anyone else seeing him like this. Not his dad, not Scott, not anyone in the pack. If he goes somewhere he risks knowing or judgmental looks or attention. Now that he's aware this is a Heat, Stiles knows that he's going to get supremely desperate and horny. It's gonna be on the for the ages. He's already buzzing with arousal and leaking (god, that's going to require some time to adjust to). 

Stiles is very much aware that Derek is bloody and dirty and sweaty. Derek vs. the fairies had left a bit of a mark. But Derek smells good, so fucking good. It's still Derek's woodsy scent of fresh pine and it's welcoming to Stiles, comforting even. If anything, the blood and sweat and dirt is just another added layer. It doesn't take away from the overall attraction. But, then again, Stiles is probably not that discerning right now. 

After he asks to stay, Derek glances down at him. Stiles tries to do his best imploring puppy-dog eyes (or whatever is the closest). It seems to work because Derek says it's okay for him to stay. Filling in his dad... Yeah, it's kind of necessary but Stiles hadn't missed that it had been Derek who had offered to do it. Before Stiles can respond to that, Derek is mentioning his lack of Omega _things_. Stiles' face flushes and he averts his eyes down. He takes in a steadying breath (that doesn't really help) and Stiles' right hand reaches out and grabs Derek's wrist. 

"But we have you," Stiles murmurs uncertainly. "You could help me out? If it's not too annoying or gross. I don't know..." 

Yeah, some Alphas are all about Heat sex, but there are also some who don't bother with it or Omegas.

* * *

God, this isn't something Derek had ever thought about, but now that he's here, it's all he can think about. He's wildly uncomfortable as he looks between Stiles and the rest of the loft, at the dust on the windowsill and the lack of fleece blankets, and the sparse furnishings. Derek doesn't mind, but suddenly he's caught by how many times Isaac has muttered _spartan_ under his breath, or squirmed uncomfortably in the loft. 

Derek's reasonably sure he's an awful Alpha in every way at this point, and that's not even counting the fact that he definitely doesn't have any... supplies. He feels hot when he thinks about knotting dildos and he wonders with a note of discomfort if he'll have to go and get one. For _Stiles_. God, he's not prepared at all, and Derek knows he probably isn't giving off the most comforting vibes right now, but he's already making plans to stock the damn loft as soon as he can. Fuck.

Before Derek can completely spiral, Stiles reaches out. It's such a small thing, but Derek swears he can feel a spark when Stiles' hand closes around his wrist. It's not the shy, tentative touch that Derek often associates with Omegas. (No shit, Stiles will always still be Stiles.) It is, however, a touch that goes right through him like a jolt. Just like that, Derek's spiraling thoughts refocus and it's like Stiles is all he can focus on. And then Stiles isn't the only one who feels hot, because...

Derek's eyes widen. He stares at Stiles for a moment, his pulse skipping and thudding, and then he pointedly bites down on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. It stings like a bitch, which means this is real. Stiles really is asking Derek for help, and Derek feels dizzy with it. 

It's only - _only_ \- the fact that Stiles mentions the words 'annoying' and 'gross' that keep Derek from exclaiming his shock. Instead, as soon as the words are out, Derek's expression hardens. His hold on Stiles' nape tightens and without preamble, he draws Stiles in close and leans in, pressing his face to Stiles' throat and breathing in his scent deeply. It's the warmest, sweetest scent that Derek's ever breathed in, and there's definitely a tremble in his body when he presses close. 

Control. Control is important. 

"You're not annoying or gross for this, Stiles," Derek growls thickly. Stiles is annoying, but it's usually intentional. He has the sense not to say that. "Fuck... you smell so damn good. Are you sure? Five-fingers sure."

* * *

Liking Omega Heats is kind of a hit or miss thing. It's not guaranteed (what in life is?). Nowadays, they're a niche, they're a category of porn amidst countless others. It's not something often talked about because it's supposed to be private (which Stiles can totally get behind now). There are countless varieties of suppressants and products available to help an Omega not only deal or prevent a Heat, but to help them blend in and present as Betas instead. Sure stereotypes exist within the secondary genders concerning physical traits and behavior, but they're not rigid. Stiles is far from some little demure Omega. Despite the slick gathering and soaking into his boxers, he doesn't know if he can even think of himself as an Omega (yet). 

If Derek doesn't help him out, Derek will need to grab a knotting dildo for him. The very idea feels kind of daunting and scary. He's obviously never used one before. Stiles has only played around with his ass on his own and not even with toys. The prospect of Derek fucking and knotting him? It has Stiles heating up even more, his cheeks flaming. It's not all embarrassment at having to ask either. There's a very real want pounding within him. God, he wants Derek to touch him and feel him so much that Stiles can't even figure out what to even fantasize about or where to start (and he knows he shouldn't be because he doesn't have permission or whatever). 

In the past reaching out and touching Derek hasn't always worked out the best for him. Derek doesn't shake him off though nor is Stiles slammed into anything. Derek actually looks surprised by what he's asked (because Stiles can't keep his eyes diverted for that long, he's always been a curious fucker). Stiles is pretty much attempting to proposition Derek for sex which is totally something he never thought he'd be doing. 

It's not that Stiles was ever against it (because who would be?) but it's fairly obvious that Derek has always been out of his league (and Derek has made abysmal choices as far as partners go, like c'mon). Derek's hand squeezes the back of his neck and then Stiles is pulled closer. Stiles doesn't resist, finding Derek's nearness like aloe vera on sunburnt skin. He wants to enjoy it, to just sag against Derek but he refuses to let himself get like _that_.

Stiles' eyes close when Derek speaks, his tone and words like a fucking verbal pat on the back because Derek doesn't find him disgusting right now and it's relieving. The actual compliment that he smells good has Stiles' pulse picking up. He doesn't have time to reflect on that because his mind is kinda getting foggy and Derek is asking if he's five-fingers sure about this -- about Derek helping him out. His other hand lifts to rest on Derek's chest. Stiles hasn't told anyone everything about his experience while being possessed, but Derek knows about the nightmares and Stiles' little trick to check his reality. 

Stiles' palm presses against Derek's chest to focus Derek on this touch. Stiles starts with his thumb and goes to each finger, tapping it succinctly until five fingers have counted on Derek's chest.

"Five-fingers sure," Stiles announces with a breathless voice.

* * *

'Five-fingers sure' is important, and Derek's convinced that nothing's ever called for it like this before. Maybe he's not always been the best Alpha, but he tries to be there for his pack when he can be. At first, yeah, he'd been a shit person, shoving them away, turning to aggression instead of being constructive, but over the years, Derek's gotten better with it. 

So when Stiles had crashed at his place while researching a shifter that had been terrorizing the town, and Stiles had woken suddenly in the night, yelling loud enough to get Derek scrambling, they'd had a talk. A _real_ talk. Derek had made himself sit close and touch Stiles' shoulder and squeeze his nape, and Stiles had eventually leaned into him and confessed his trick after Derek had caught him counting his fingers repeatedly. 

Derek doesn't use the code often, but it's there for emergencies. This is an emergency. The only reason he's asking now is because Stiles is still himself enough to give an answer. Maybe he's biased, maybe this isn't ideal, but they don't have a choice. So Derek asks, he goes quiet, and he listens. 

Stiles doesn't answer at first and Derek struggles to focus himself and his breathing, struggles not to bury himself in the scent of sugar cookies and the open forest. He feels Stiles' fingers come to his chest eventually, and Derek uses it as a grounding point as Stiles slowly goes through each finger. 

Derek waits, because as antsy as he is, this isn't something to rush. If Stiles isn't into this, Derek will find a way to help him. And he is definitely getting supplies after this in case this happens again.

Five fingers complete their pass, and when Stiles answers him, Derek growls a low, rough sound in the back of his throat. He finally frees his hand from Stiles' grasp and reaches down, winding an arm around Stiles' waist. 

He's still gross from being outside, and he does care, but they can both shower later, once the initial wave has passed. For now, before Stiles slips into his mind, Derek takes Stiles' words to heart. He doesn't hesitate as he suddenly lifts Stiles up off of his feet. It's awkward and way too eager, but Derek's heart is pounding in his chest. His instincts are demanding two things: care and den. He is never telling Stiles about that last one...

He does show him, though. Derek doesn't hesitate to carry Stiles down the hall, into his bedroom. He knows that Stiles is going to need the feeling of safety, and being surrounded by an Alpha's scent should theoretically help. He hopes. He's going on hearsay here, but Stiles doesn't seem unhappy when Derek sets him back on the bed and then immediately strips off his shirt and tosses it aside. He kicks his shoes off and his jeans follow, but he doesn't launch himself at Stiles. Instead, Derek reaches out again and pulls him in close, tucking Stiles' face in close to his throat, where Derek's scent will be the strongest.

"Stiles, I need you to focus. Have you... ever done anything like this before? You know - with other people? With... with yourself?"

* * *

Later, this could be something Stiles teases Derek about. Stiles could joke about all the checking in and making sure, but issues of consent are frightening when it's concerning a Heat. More likely, Stiles is going to appreciate and maybe even be touched that Derek is trying to make sure that he's okay and as consenting as he can be. Not all people would. But Derek isn't just a people. Derek isn't just an Alpha either, he's a double Alpha because he's also a werewolf. Stiles likes to tease Derek about having double A's, but now hardly seems like the time.

Going through this confusing intense hormonal shitstorm with Derek outweighs the need for humor. Stiles had honestly been looking forward to researching and teasing Derek about the fairies... This, while it will lead to sex, isn't exactly optimal. While it's cool that Derek is potentially okay with helping him and being here for him, Stiles understands that it's an instinct-thing. Not only is Stiles a part of Derek's pack, Stiles is also an Omega in Heat and Derek's Alpha secondary gender should want to be providing for him or what have you (truthfully Stiles didn't pay a lot of attention in sex ed). This is Derek helping because it's more convenient. This isn't them hooking up because they like each other (if only).

But it doesn't really matter because Derek's arms come to wrap around him and Stiles is being easily lifted and fucking carried like some princess. Even if humor isn't appropriate, Stiles has a few comments he does want to give, at least he thinks he does. Something about being deflowered by his prince. His body doesn't seem to want to let him get anything out. 

Instead, he clings to Derek and enjoys each point of contact between them. He's awash in Derek's smell and heat and Stiles wonders if it's possible for his own body temperature to get any higher because of Derek's warmth. Derek relocates him to his bedroom and places him down on the large king-size bed with a few soft blankets piled on it. Stiles feels a little dazed as he watches Derek strip.

And Stiles stares. He knows he should care, but Derek is now only dressed in his boxers and Stiles' body is anticipating and somehow fucking _longing_? He feels himself leak more (which is still really weird) and Stiles thinks he should also get naked and ask about a towel but Derek is gathering him up again. Stiles decides to just enjoy it. He breathes Derek's scent in, his hands reaching to feel Derek's arms and shoulders, something he's never been allowed to do. 

Stiles isn't so far gone that he misses the question -- another instance of Derek checking in with him. "'ve only fucked others," Stiles answers honestly. "I have, uh, with fingers in myself a few times..." He suddenly speeds up, "Is that okay? I'm sure it's going to work still. I'm wet."

* * *

God, Stiles smells good. It keeps hitting him again and again, the rich, warm scent of Heat and Stiles' normal scent that Derek tries to sneak little bits of here and there, at least when Stiles isn't irritating him to death. Like this, though, with warm Heat-scent in his bed, pressed all against him, Derek just wants to bury his face in it and never leave. It'll be complicated later, maybe, because right now he's just doing a service. A knotted dildo would be better because it'd mean that Stiles had his own control, but Derek... he can't deny that he's honored that Stiles had asked him. Even if it is just convenience, he's still pleased. 

He still can't help but feel proud when Stiles so blatantly stares at him when he's stripping himself down. Stiles' scent increases and even if it is just hormonal, Derek feels good about it. When Derek has Stiles gathered in against his chest, he asks his question and he's relieved that Stiles can give him an answer. Stiles only having sex with others makes sense; Betas can bottom, of course. Everyone can. But it takes more prep-work (if you're a guy) and it's not as common. But the way that Stiles phrases it - that he'd fingered himself - has Derek's eyes briefly bleeding red with a flush of arousal that he struggles to fight back. Focus.

But focusing is hard when Stiles just panic-babbles the rest of his answer. There's something about the way that Stiles phrases what he says - that he's wet - that makes a visceral shudder of want curl through Derek's body. He groans softly under his breath and when he leans in, he drags his beard along Stiles' throat, mouthing at his skin because it's impossible not to. 

"Yeah, it's-- it's okay. I'll go slow at first, make sure you can get used to it," Derek says, his voice rough. He can't help but want to see Stiles fingering himself, but that's not helpful to focus on right now.

Instead Derek draws back enough to reach down. He hooks his fingers under Stiles' shirt and tells him to, "lift up," before pulling Stiles' shirt over his head. Derek wants to take his time and appreciate, wants to drink in every mole and rub his face all over Stiles' skin, but instead, Derek leans in, kissing at Stiles' chest, then working his way down to one nipple as he reaches down to undo Stiles' jeans. Derek slides his hands back, cupping Stiles' ass the way he's wanted to for fucking years, but he groans roughly when he feels the wetness against Stiles' jeans. Derek squeezes because it's impossible not to at this point, and god, he wants to bury himself in Stiles' scent.

"What... is there anything I can do right now? Is there anything you need? Can't believe I'm saying this, but talk to me, Stiles."

* * *

There's definitely a small part inside Stiles' noggin that is a little worried about all of this currently and what's going to come about sooner than later. Maybe it would be easier to have Derek leave and pick up the appropriate dildo and leave Stiles to it... But Stiles doesn't want that at all. The thought of Derek leaving is actually upsetting. Being near Derek, enveloped in his smell and warmth, it's just better. It's where Stiles wants to be. 

Stiles has always been the curious type so yeah, his fingers have traveled and explored his body. While it's way more common and expected for Omegas to bottom, it's not unheard of for Betas to do it also. Even though Stiles hasn't ever had sex this way - bottoming - he knows how it's supposed to work (more or less). Being in Heat should also make it way easier, so that's one small bonus? (He's trying to stay positive, okay.)

Stiles doesn't particularly like his phrasing of being wet, but he has no idea how else to say it. Slick equals wet, there's no way around it. He can feel his boxers and jeans sticking to him and he's going to continue producing slick like a damn efficient bitch machine. Derek seems to like what he's said though because he actually groans and then a beard is dragged along Stiles' throat and Stiles shivers at the scratchy sensation (which he kind of likes, actually).

Derek promises to go slow and all Stiles can do is give a dazed half-nod. He's pretty sure he won't care about slow and careful within the hour, but whatever, it's nice to know. Stiles is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he's going to get uber horny and desperate to be mounted and fucked. God, it seems weird to know that that's going to happen, yet his body is totally on board for it. Stiles is compliant as Derek works his shirt off. It feels nicer to be free of the clinging fabric. He wants all of his clothing off. Bring on the naked! 

Before he can say as much, Derek is leaning in and kissing his chest and it's not bad at all. Stiles makes a content hum as Derek undoes his jeans. But instead of the pants coming off, Derek's hands are sliding around to touch his ass and Stiles immediately feels how wet he is. It's still kinda gross (or at least weird) but Derek seems to like it. Stiles purposefully wiggles against Derek, greedy for every touch and new sensation. 

The questions posed to him have Stiles considering. He's not exactly on top of things mentally. He has zero plans for this. He thinks about giving Derek a hard time about the whole 'talk to me' thing, but Stiles doesn't want to be a jerk when Derek's here and actually helping. 

"Naked, wanna be naked," Stiles answers easily. "And you should get naked too. We should definitely both be naked."

* * *

It's the feeling of Stiles' slick-damp jeans under Derek's hands that really drives this home. The scent makes it really obvious but there's something about the tactile proof that hammers it into Derek's skull. Stiles is an Omega. And when that thought strikes, more leaps onto it, things that Derek knows he should probably bring up much later (if at all). 

Stiles had gone to Derek's loft. He'd waited until it was empty, filled with only Derek's scent. He'd gone into Heat in a number of hours, and Derek can't really ignore that on some level, that means that Stiles had finally felt comfortable enough to let his hormones take over. He'd presented in Derek's space, and he'd asked Derek to stay. That doesn't mean anything in the long run, but it means enough for now that Derek can at least focus on this without wondering when the other shoe is going to drop. Is this proof that there's more to this than meets the eye? No. But it can be something, even if it's just Stiles wanting Derek's help with this one Heat.

If that's the case, Derek's not going to pass this up. So when Stiles starts chanting about being naked, Derek snorts softly in a rueful, almost-fond amusement and draws back. He has zero problems with that. 

His hands reluctantly slide away from Stiles' ass (and Derek's honestly kind of amazed that Stiles' ass feels even better than it looks, and he's definitely been looking over the years) and Derek instead slides his hands around to take hold of Stiles' jeans. It's a quick matter to work them down, and Derek hastily pulls each leg of Stiles' jeans off, tossing the dampened fabric off to the side. The result is a wave of scent that makes him shiver, and before he's asked any more, Derek's hands move to Stiles' boxers (and seriously, he's going to give Stiles so much shit for the Spider-Man boxers later, but not now) and he works the clinging, slick material down.

Derek's eyes are red when he leans back on his heels. Stiles is naked, his skin flushed, his cock hard between his legs, and his slick clearly visible against his ass, and Derek's reasonably sure that if it wasn't for the way Stiles' eyes lock on the front of Derek's boxers, he'd have forgone getting naked himself entirely. So he's not at all put-together as he slips out of his own boxers, tossing them aside. 

He should go for a towel. His sheets - his mattress - will be soaked in Stiles' scent if he doesn't, but right now that doesn't seem like a bad idea. Derek immediately leans down and one hand slides down Stiles' chest, touching and exploring as Derek's red gaze rakes over him. He goes all the way down to Stiles' hip, then slides around to cup one cheek of his ass again, but this time he feels the slickness against his fingers, and the sensation makes him ache. 

"How bad is it right now?" Derek asks, his voice a slight rasp. "I don't want to make you wait if you need it..."

* * *

Yeah, apparently Stiles is an Omega and Derek is an Alpha (the double A's too). Biologically they're a win-win situation and apparently they're gonna have some fucking nasty Heat sex. But first things first, they gotta get stripped down and naked. Well, being naked isn't a requirement for sex, but Stiles would prefer if they were naked. He doesn't like the feeling of wet clothes against his skin... at least not sweaty and slick-wet clothes.

Stiles is aware of how things look. The stress and trauma of his life had apparently delayed his Heat, but being in Derek's loft had been the right environment for it to smack him upside the face. Maybe this is something they need to talk about, but there's no promise that Derek will want to after this. Derek doesn't do touchy-feely. Derek is asking for him to talk now because Derek is the type of person to not want to fuck this up.

At least his demand for nakedness has Derek snorting. Derek's not one for laughing easily or often, but an amused snort is still a success. Over the years, they've definitely made headway in joking and sarcasm around each other and Stiles likes getting a reaction out of Derek (even if they're sometimes violent). But Derek isn't violent now. 

After Derek works his jeans off, it's then Stiles realizes that he's rocking his Spider-Man boxers... Well, there's worse he could be wearing (he thinks). Surprisingly, Derek doesn't make any commentary over it and Stiles is silent as Derek frees him. He's never been naked in front of Derek and his dick is hard, he's sweaty and flushed. It's not exactly how Stiles would like to be bared to a potential partner, but he's got no choice on the matter. 

Red werewolf eyes meet him when Derek leans back and Stiles licks his lips and then directs his eyes at Derek boxers because Stiles is winning in the naked department and he doesn't want to be. Yeah, he wants to see Derek's dick, okay? Thankfully Derek gets the picture and rips off his boxers shortly thereafter. Stiles' eyes widen because Derek's got a rather impressive dick and Stiles knows it's supposed to fit but what if--

Then Derek is touching him and Stiles' worries disappear because it somehow feels stupidly good to have Derek's hand slide down his chest to his hip. When that hand moves to his ass, Stiles shivers. He's pretty sure this is the longest he's been quiet but everything kinda feels hazy and he's just trying to take it in and process being naked and close to Derek who's also naked. 

The question has Stiles pausing and he gets to his knees, edging closer to Derek. "I think I'm okay?" Stiles looks over Derek, all stupid muscles and his ridiculously hot face that looks serious and still hot. He feels the want and need but it's not overpowering. "I'm okay to like, do other things? Can we do other things? I'd like to do other things. I'm really horny right now and I've totally thought about you in the past and now it's like some crazy sex dream come true minus fairies and the Heat."

* * *

Derek doesn't ask to be polite. He asks to be selfish, and he can guiltily admit that to himself. Seeing Stiles like this - suddenly naked - feels almost dizzying. Derek's pictured it before, but never this quickly. Shoving Stiles into a wall and kissing him to shut him up, sure, or - in more frustrating times - putting Stiles' mouth to better use. But there's always been a bit of build up, never just being naked. Derek might be able to get sex, but he doesn't go for it often. It's not about the release, it's about the experience, so a part of him is a little disappointed to have not undressed Stiles slower.

That part is quickly dashed when he sees him, though. So Derek asks how desperate he is, because fuck, if Stiles can handle it, there's a laundry list of things that Derek wants to do to him. His scent is so thick on the air, so heady, and he wants to bury himself in it. Just feeling Stiles' slick against his fingers makes Derek want to taste it - to taste him - and so maybe he's not the most put together when Stiles finally gets up onto his knees. It puts them at a more equal height and Derek is suddenly, viciously tempted to grab Stiles' face in his hands and kiss him senseless, but he doesn't. There are certain things he doesn't want to risk taking from Stiles, and kissing is more intimate. 

Derek's not expecting Stiles to allow him to do what he wants. But he's definitely not expecting the admission that follows. He's already looking Stiles over, already trying to decide what he wants to do most when Stiles adds that he's thought about Derek before, and Derek's gaze snaps up to Stiles' own. His eyes bleed even darker red before he gets a handle on himself, but the shock is still evident even when he makes his eyes ease back into hazel. Stiles has thought about him. Like _this_. 

"You--... Y-yeah, yeah, we can do other things," Derek says, half-distracted, half-painfully turned on. 

He wants to ask, wants to push, but now's not the time for that. But it is the time for 'doing other things', and so when Derek finally makes up his mind, he leans in, presses his face to Stiles' throat, and nuzzles against it, scenting him and dragging Stiles' scent into his lungs at the same time. Derek squeezes Stiles' ass in his hand, then lets the other one join it.

He pulls his cheeks apart, feeling the slick under his fingers, and Derek presses in closer with one, rubbing it slowly over Stiles' puffy hole. He shivers and groans against Stiles' throat. "God, I want to taste you. Can I? Bet you'd taste so damn good."

* * *

'Other things' is vague as fuck, but right now Stiles wants to do whatever Derek will allow because he doesn't think this chance will ever come up again. He's definitely going to go on suppressants because he doesn't want his hormones ruling his life, possibly going into his Heat at an inopportune moment and then having to seclude himself away and be forced to get very passionate with a knotted dildo again and again. Ugh. God, he wonders how the rest of the pack will take it, how his dad is going to take it. Talk about a late bloomer...

Stiles understands that he's going to be appealing to most Alphas out there, but that's just because he's smelling finger-lickin' good because of the Heat. Derek's never shown any interest in him before (at least to Stiles' knowledge), so it's safe to assume that this is going to be a one-time deal. Either way, Stiles is going to be grateful and enjoy whatever he can. He hopes he remembers enough of it so that he can go back and replay it in the privacy of his own room. Stiles knows that he's smelled aroused while around the pack, but from Derek's reaction to him having fantasized about Derek before, Stiles thinks that Derek, somehow, hadn't known. Huh. 

Stiles gets it. He's surrounded by good-looking people and he's often not that lucky with dating or scoring, so yeah sometimes he gets a little aroused by the pack (most notably when Derek is around). Maybe Derek thought nothing of it, just chalked it up to Stiles being Stiles? Stiles could ask about it, but he knows he's not going to. 

He's already said too much and Stiles has the feeling that he may say even more as he gets caught up within the throes of his Heat, but that's a problem for later. Derek seems to rein himself in, his eyes dimming to their human hazel color. Derek seems okay with what he's asked and Stiles can only give a bit of a dopey grin that breaks as soon as Derek's face is nuzzling against his throat. Stiles' eyelids flutter as he's trying to not close his eyes and lose himself just yet. When Derek's hands spread him open, Siles jerks. He apparently really likes it because his body is wanting to get down on all fours and--

Then a finger gently rubs against his hole and Stiles makes a sound he's never heard himself make before: it's a whine. It's a goddamn whine. But the question of Derek _tasting him_ outshines the sensitive feeling of a wet finger against him down there. 

"Yeah, yes? If you want to do that?" Stiles scrambles. A tiny part of him is aware that this could maybe be embarrassing or weird (as he's never had it done before) but there's a much larger part that wants Derek doing _anything_ to him.

* * *

Stiles' hole is hot. It catches Derek by surprise, because while humans are hot during their Heats, he'd never really registered it as abnormal before. Stiles' body is hot even to him, though, and Derek thinks longingly about how good it might feel to bury his cock in that. The thought is immediately followed up by something almost ashamed for even thinking that, and then again by something significantly more aroused, because the thought of flattening himself to Stiles' back and feeling him squirm sounds amazing. But more than anything, Derek wants to live in this moment. Will he get it again? Will he get to have Stiles like this? Probably not. But that just makes this more meaningful. 

And then Stiles just floors him and his instincts by whining. Derek freezes, his fingers stilling against where Stiles' hole is hot and wet under them, and he feels his instincts all but lurch in his chest. It robs him of breath, almost violent, and when the sound really registers to him, Derek lets out an honest-to-god growl and suddenly presses in close, his beard likely scraping against Stiles' throat as Derek drags in breaths of his scent. He curses dazedly under his breath, the sound rough, and it's only the fact that Stiles apparently hasn't done this before that keeps Derek from just going for it.

Instead he rubs his cheek against Stiles' throat. He touches him, breathes him in, kisses his shoulder. He works at steadily leaving his own scent on Stiles' skin whilst willingly rubbing himself along Stiles' sweat-soaked skin. 

And when he feels like his claim has been more-or-less secured, Derek finally, shakily manages to breathe, "yeah, yes, I definitely want to do that," and then he's moving.

But he isn't moving fast. Instead, Derek reluctantly leaves Stiles' hole and reaches around him, moving for his pillows so he can pull them in close and arrange them just so. Derek's quick with it, bunching his blankets and pillows to make a soft place for Stiles to lay down, and then he gently presses a hand against Stiles' hip, guiding him in how he wants him to move. 

"Turn around for me. On your knees, yeah? Let me see you," he coaxes hotly.

Only when Stiles has moved to the position Derek wants - on his chest and knees, his head resting against Derek's pillows, ass in the air - does Derek look, and when he looks, it's with a sudden, shuddering groan. Stiles' ass is wet with his slick, and Derek slides his hands down Stiles' back until he reaches Stiles' ass, giving it a squeeze. This time when Derek spreads his cheeks, he can see how Stiles looks, and the sight of it has him groaning and leaning in. Before he's thought better of it, he's swiped his tongue over one of Stiles' cheeks, and the sweetness and sex burst like honey over his tongue.

* * *

Werewolves run hotter than humans, but right now Stiles might be giving Derek a run for his money. There's a feverish haze threatening to overcome him, but Stiles wants to try and remain present for as long as possible. He's sweating and flushed and it's not entirely comfortable, but, amazingly enough, he doesn't find himself that self-conscious. Under normal circumstances, Stiles would practically be vibrating out of his skin and bursting with energy and nerves.

He only feels a smidgen of that. Like he's aware that he's naked - that they're both naked - and that Derek is going to have to fuck him to satisfy his Heat and this is all new, but Stiles isn't overly concerned about it. Maybe he should be, but his hormones are in overdrive and all he feels is wantwantwant directed at Derek.

Derek apparently wants to eat him out and Stiles doesn't know how that's going to feel. He's had his dick sucked and that's awesome, but his ass? Well, he's going to find out and Derek must really want to or maybe he likes the dumb sound Stiles has made, because Derek is surging forward with a growl and rubbing his face against Stiles' neck. Derek's beard scratches along his skin and Stiles arches into the touch, enjoying the rough-but-good sensation. Derek kisses his shoulder and Stiles thinks he'd like Derek kissing him more (or everywhere).

Stiles has the thought that their scents are mixing and he wonders how it smells to Derek. Stiles doesn't get to think about it long because Derek is moving away from him and Stiles watches him gather up pillows like a nest for him. Stiles screws up his face, but he understands it. Omegas like comfort and soft shit during Heats. Stiles lets himself be directed. Getting on his hands and knees makes the most sense after all. He crawls over to his comfort-nest, his ass up in the air and his legs spread.

Despite the compromising position, it is actually pretty comfy and soothing to be laying here amidst Derek's things. Stiles rubs his own cheek against the pillow but as hands slide down his back, he goes still, waiting. He feels arousal shoot through him when Derek's hands spread him open. It's undoubtedly the most intimate position he's ever been in and Stiles' heart is pounding away in his chest. Without any word, Derek leans in and licks one of his cheeks, tasting his slick in the process.

Stiles jerks forward with a gasp. "Okay, yeah yeah yeah," Stiles blurts out as he pushes back and purposefully wiggles his ass. "You're going to eat me out? Let's do it. I want it."

* * *

This is a whirlwind of sensation and action. A part of Derek kind of feels guilty for rushing into this so quickly, but the rest of him admits that he can't help it. He's thought about this before, has thought about Stiles in many compromising positions, but the good fantasies have always been more drawn-out. Yeah, maybe Derek's pictured rough stuff too, but it had been a little more foreplay than this. Heat doesn't really give them a choice though, and while Derek would like to take his time, if Stiles' Heat has come into being in just a few hours, it's going to hit him hot and hard when it finally blossoms. 

Derek remembers one of his older sisters loudly complaining about how her first Heat had felt. He remembers screwing up his nose and her punching him on the arm. But he also recalls other Omegas telling him how an Alpha during the first Heat had made the transition of it less jarring. Derek only hopes that maybe that'll be the case here too. 

He can't pretend that his desire to eat Stiles out is just for Stiles, though. Maybe Derek doesn't go down on people as often as he should, but he has a few exceptions. Apparently Stiles is one of them, because the thought of eating Stiles out, of feeling slick drag against his tongue, of feeling Stiles hump back against his face is burning in its intensity. Derek feels breathless with it, with the taste, and when Stiles suddenly jerks and gasps, Derek's cock throbs, precome beading at the slit. He quickly reaches down to press a hand against his dick, trying to soothe the sharp ache of need that he feels, but Stiles is much more important right now.

"Fuck, Stiles," Derek growls, and it takes an effort to resist the urge to bite Stiles' ass as it wiggles in front of him. 

He draws a few deep breaths of Stiles' sweet scent and then both of his hands come up to Stiles' ass. Derek spreads him wide, admiring, not letting Stiles hide. Maybe a good Alpha would take their time; Derek doesn't know. He's never admitted to being a good Alpha. But when he leans in again, it's with a low, almost-hungry moan as he parts his lips and licks hotly over Stiles' slick-covered hole. It tastes good, heady and sweet and arousing, and Derek breathes out hotly against Stiles' skin before he begins to lick in earnest. God, Stiles tastes better than anything Derek's ever encountered before.

* * *

Derek is hard because of him. Derek wants him. Stiles had seen Derek's cock as it sprung free of black boxers, thick and big and Stiles is still flabbergasted to think that it's going to go inside of him, that his body is going to stretch and create enough of its own lubricant to ease the entire process. It's his Heat that's made him a literal hot piece of ass but Stiles is going to take it. Finding out he's an Omega this late is still a shocker, but the upside of his surprise and sudden Heat is Derek.

Derek has nuzzled and touched him, their scents mixing. Despite the feverish need, Stiles is enjoying himself. Derek's blankets and pillows are soft against his skin and Stiles knows that this whole room is going to smell like him -- like them. There are a few butterflies flitting around, but how can Stiles be fixating on worries when Derek is here and has already offered to help him? Just being around Derek is easing some of the discomfort.

Derek's hands have spread him open further and Derek can see his exposed and leaking hole... It's a realization that has heat lancing through Stiles. Stiles feels so amped up and god, he's not sure how it's going to feel to have Derek's tongue licking him _there_ , but he wants it, he wants to discover it. And Derek's low moan is almost missed, the sound of it making his chest fest warm.

Then a tongue - wet and warm - licks across the delicate skin and Stiles trembles, his hands scrunching at the blankets as he tries to process the foreign jittery sensation. Stiles pants as he feels Derek's breath on his slick-wet skin and he only has a moment to gather himself before Derek goes to town. 

And Derek is enthusiastic in the pursuit. Stiles' eyes are squeezed tightly shut as he rocks back against Derek's mouth, his body hungry for more. "Oh my god," Stiles moans, his voice higher in tense pleasure. "Don't stop, fuck-- please don't stop, feels so good, Derek."

* * *

God, Stiles smells amazing. Derek can feel heat prickling at his nape, and the simple scent of Stiles' slick makes his mouth water as he tastes. Logically, Derek knows that this is what he's supposed to do, but under the small voice of guilt in the back of his mind is a voice that quietly reminds him that he's thought of doing this before. He'd believed Stiles to be a Beta then, and the desire hadn't really been any different, just much less pressing than this. This feels like his instincts have been collared and refocused on Stiles and the delicious scent of his Heat. Derek feels dizzy with it as he licks, as he tastes, and as he takes.

Stiles doesn't give him any reason to stop. Instead of squirming or telling Derek to slow down, Stiles' breath escapes him in pants. Derek doesn't need to look to see that Stiles is clenching the sheets under him in his hands; he can hear it. Stiles is a feast for his senses, from the sound of each breathy moan and gasp, to the tactile sensation of Stiles' skin under Derek's hands, and against his tongue. Derek feels like there's a perpetual growl bubbling in his chest as he licks and feels Stiles' body rock back against him, like he's desperate to feel Derek's tongue. Derek feels a little desperate to give it to him.

Stiles sounds hot. Derek's never heard him sound like this before. The whine had been enough to shatter his control, but he's never heard Stiles' voice this breathy or hitched. It's never been this high-pitched or tight, and the thought of how Stiles is going to sound while Derek's knotted in his ass, or when Stiles is coming all over himself is... fuck, there are no words. Derek groans low under his breath, particularly when Stiles begins to beg, and he doesn't waste a moment. Keeping Stiles' cheeks spread, Derek presses in closer and lifts Stiles' hip a little higher, getting a better angle as he licks. 

He does have the presence of mind not to force everything at once, but he wants more, and he's pretty damn sure that Stiles does too. So when Stiles wiggles back again, Derek presses a slow, sucking kiss to his hole, groaning at the taste under his tongue. It's enough to make him shiver, and when he licks again, Derek presses his tongue to the slick skin and pushes, licking a little deeper. Stiles isn't easy to resist right now. 

* * *

It's extremely sensitive, like it could maybe be ticklish, but it's somehow not. As Derek's tongue practically laps at him, Stiles' body seems fit to keep on leaking out slick. It's weird that he can feel so damn wet, slick mixing with Derek's spit. Stiles has never tasted slick. He's been a little curious in the past, but it hardly enters his mind to reach back and taste now (he's pretty sure his own won't taste that good to him anyway).

But Derek seems to like it. And Derek doesn't stop licking or try and hold him still when he pushes back encouragingly. Stiles wonders if he'll smell any different after the Heat because he'd really like Derek to still be into him. Stiles knows that that's unfair. Derek is an Alpha and he's an Omega in Heat so of course Derek is all game to jump on him. Stiles wouldn't mind Derek jumping on him again after this... He knows everything is heightened now, but it almost seems unfair that he's hormonally high. He kinda wants to be more level headed, he wants to be able to touch and do stuff to Derek too...

Stiles likes to talk, but right now forming words let alone sentences is rather difficult. Stiles' body seems to know what it wants and so does Derek, because Derek adjusts and then the sensation changes, from tongue to lips, and as Stiles moans, Derek's tongue pushes in and licks him open. Stiles shakes, gasping as his toes curl. He tries to adjust to this new sensation, but it almost feels like a lost cause because how does one adjust to a tongue inside of you? Stiles pushes himself back, trying to find some rhythm of fucking himself onto Derek's tongue. 

"Holy tongue of the gods," Stiles babbles. His cock is hard and hanging between his legs and there's no friction but he thinks he might be able to get off just from this.

* * *

It's everything, really. Derek's getting off on all of it. The sounds that Stiles keeps making are music to his ears and to his instincts, and the taste of him is so fucking good. But really, it's everything. It's no one thing in particular. With Stiles on his hands and knees, his ass in the air, slick slowly dripping down Derek's chin as he hungrily eats Stiles out, it's the sounds that Stiles makes, his scent, his taste, the feel of him, and the knowledge that Derek can and will make him come like this. 

The thought sends the good kind of fire licking under Derek's skin, and he honestly has to rein himself back a little bit, because he can feel the itch of his fangs wanting to drop and his claws wanting to slide out. Stiles might be an Omega, but he's still human and Derek needs to be careful.

But being careful doesn't mean he has to take things slow. He eats Stiles out like he's starving for it - for him - and as Derek's tongue laps in deeper, as his beard scratches what will likely amount to a friction burn against Stiles' skin, he can smell Stiles getting closer and closer. Derek's distantly aware of Stiles' cock, of the scent of his precome, and the human part of Derek's mind thinks that maybe not touching Stiles' dick is being rude. The wolf in him has other ideas, and the thought of stoking the heat in Stiles' body even higher just with his tongue eventually wins out.

Derek growls against Stiles' skin, the sound rumbling, almost a vibration. He nuzzles his face in closer, and when Stiles pushes back against him, Derek's growl turns into a snarl of arousal as he tenses his tongue and lets Stiles fuck himself back on it. It's not a sensation that Derek's familiar with, and he doesn't care. He lets Stiles take over for a few seconds to learn what he wants, and then Derek surges back in, redoubling his effort as he fucks Stiles with his tongue and tries his damndest to mind his fangs. He never actually bites, but Stiles can likely feel them a few times; Derek doesn't think he's ever been taken so much by an Omega's Heat.

* * *

He wants. Stiles wants so much that it's hard to wrap his mind around everything. There is, of course. the desire to get off and that's a familiar one, but that's not the only sensation. There is a dominating need to be filled and fucked and Stiles assumes knotted too. He's had his fingers inside of him before and while it hadn't been the best thing ever, it wasn't horrible. It should be stranger to want things he hasn't had before, but it feels natural somehow. Go instincts?

But getting off has always happened with a hand or mouth around his dick or his dick inside of someone. This is vastly different, it's very wet and hot and Stiles isn't used to feeling like that, especially down there. There's also the drag of Derek's beard scratching against him and it somehow helps ground Stiles. The thought that half of Derek's face is going to be wet because of him is weirdly a huge turn on too.

When Derek growls, Stiles can actually feel it. He's panting like a dog, desperation and tension rising as his muscles clench in his abdomen. He's close. He's so close. Stiles groans, trying to focus on pushing himself over the edge, but it turns out that Derek knows exactly what he needs because Derek pushes harder and faster. Derek's tongue plunges in deeper and it's when Stiles realizes that the slight sharpness he feels is Derek's fangs, that he comes with a strangled cry. 

"Fuck yes, fuck yes," he chants, his cock spurting on the blankets underneath him.

It's a flood of pleasure as Stiles nuzzles his head into the pillow. He momentarily is dazed until Derek's tongue at his hole is overstimulation and Stiles tries to crawl away with a ragged plea.

* * *

Stiles is close. Derek can practically taste the difference in Stiles' slick as he pushes harder and harder, as he licks and sucks and kisses like he's trying to force the orgasm out of Stiles without his say-so. Derek's always been interested in going for it in bed, but this is something else entirely. He needs to make Stiles come. He needs to taste it, needs to hear him cry out, needs to feel him shudder apart and clench down on his tongue and hump Derek's face until they're both desperate with it. 

Derek's cock hasn't been forgotten, but there's no soothing it at this point. He's so aroused that it hurts; he can feel each beat of his heart in his dick like a pulse of its own, and with every higher cry that Stiles lets out, Derek pushes harder. He's careful to keep his claws from sliding out, and he's extra careful not to bite Stiles, but Stiles must be able to feel it. There's no other explanation for it when Stiles suddenly groans and begins to shake. Derek's growl grows in volume, and when Stiles' voice breaks on a strangled cry, Derek all but snarls again and presses in close, licking deep as Stiles' hole clenches down around his tongue and twitches rhythmically.

It's almost indecent, it feels so good, and Derek's awash in the scent of arousal and crushing Heat that suffuses Stiles' body. He's distantly aware of Stiles' pleasured babbling, distantly aware of the scent of his come, but Derek's stuck on the fact that he just made Stiles come, and the rush of satisfaction he feels. The desire to press in close, to never stop is present, and he might push it for longer than he should. Because before he can really feel everything, Stiles is talking, his voice hoarse, and Derek feels him begin to crawl away.

He doesn't think as he grabs at Stiles' thighs to keep him there, his claws just barely touching Stiles' skin. But the feeling of them is enough to bring reason back to Derek's mind. He blinks a few times, breathing hard, his cock aching, his chin wet. And while it takes him a moment to really get it, when he does, he draws back with a hard shake of his head. Derek draws in a few deep breaths, and when he leans in again, it's to press a wet kiss to Stiles' shoulder. Which, of course, entails Derek leaning down and blanketing himself against Stiles' back. He feels good.

"Sorry," he manages, his voice rough, but he at least has the presence of mind to acknowledge that he was a little intense there. "Got caught up into it. Fuck, you taste good. You okay?"

* * *

The pleasure is intense and it's different than any other orgasm Stiles has had before. Not that Stiles is in the right mindset to rank his orgasms, he just intrinsically knows that this is better somehow. Maybe it's because it's with Derek. Maybe getting his ass eaten out is something he's apparently really into. Or maybe it's everything to do with the Heat. He doesn't exactly know. But Stiles does know that he momentarily feels less frantic, that the orgasm somehow tampered the frenzied itch under his skin.

It's Derek's tongue that's now the problem because it licks greedily and while Stiles feels really fucking good, the insistent press of Derek's tongue makes the sensation shoot into the whoa-please-no-more area. But Derek seems to be really into it or something because he doesn't actually _let_ Stiles crawl away. Stiles may not have his wits about him, but he's sure he needs a bit of a break from Derek's deliciously forceful tongue. Instead, he feels the pinprick of claws against his skin. Fuck, what if Derek doesn't let him go? That thought is both upsetting and hot.

But a moment later Derek seems to get the hint and he mercifully pulls away. Stiles sighs in relief as Derek drapes himself over Stiles' back, a kiss coming to his shoulder. There is comfort and protection at Derek's nearness and Stiles really likes it. He hears Derek's apology but it's not required by any means. Stiles definitely isn't angry about it.

He grunts, pushing back against Derek to indicate that he wants him to move. Stiles doesn't mean anything by it, he just can't articulate that he wants to be in a different position. Derek pulls back but before he can get away, Stiles immediately turns around and he crowds in close. He wraps his arms around Derek's neck and clings to his chest as he comes down from his orgasm. 

"I'm fine, I'm okay," Stiles mumbles. He knows this is cuddling, but it's what he wants right now. "I'm gonna tell everyone you cuddled with me," he adds on weakly.

* * *

Derek can't remember the last time he'd so completely lost control. He's glad it hadn't been in any sort of violent capacity, of course, but the fact that Stiles had so effortlessly ripped away his higher functioning should be unsettling. It's not. He just feels good and wired, and while he definitely hadn't come, there's a part of him that feels extremely satiated just the same. He feels the satisfaction work all the way down into his bones, a lazy pride curling around him like warmth. In the back of his mind, Derek wonders if maybe it's just how full of Stiles' scent he is, but he feels too good to wonder. All he really wants to do is press in close, is soak Stiles' scent into his skin and vice-versa. Derek doesn't even really get that it's his instincts talking to and ruling him until Stiles gives a small grunt and pushes back against him.

Initially Derek is caught. Half of him begins to wonder if Stiles wants to get fucked that quickly, but eventually Derek manages to put two and two together. He's kind of laying on top of Stiles, his weight kind of crushing, and oh, right, Stiles isn't a werewolf. With a small shake of his head, Derek grimaces his silent apology and sets his hands on his bed. He pushes himself back, ready to pull back entirely, but before he can, Stiles flips over underneath him. 

Derek freezes as arms loop up around his neck, and that feeling of good just intensifies. A lot. He looks down at Stiles, his eyes wide, his face definitely flushed, and he's pretty damn sure that his chin is still wet with Stiles' slick, but looking down at Stiles - all flushed and warm and lazy - has Derek swallowing visibly. He leans in enough to press his lips to Stiles' shoulder, this time from the other side, and he finally just gives in. With a low rumble of a growl, Derek noses in against Stiles' throat, breathing him in without shame. 

"You can tell them whatever you want. If they knew how good you smelled, they wouldn't blame me. They'd probably be jealous," he adds, and there's a note of something very satisfied but also something very possessive in Derek's voice.

* * *

Derek's chin and mouth are quite wet. It still seems crazy to think that it's him who's to blame. Well, some of it has to be Derek's own spit mixing with Stiles' slick but somehow that's just as arousing? Heat is sure a messy business. Stiles feels messy, some come dripping down his dick, he's sweaty and still very wet back there. It's a little more than mind-boggling to have to adjust to this new reality, but Stiles is still Stiles and maybe that's why he makes a joke out of the cuddling.

Derek has never been the cuddly type, nor is he touchy-feely. But apparently, Stiles' Heat can change that because Derek doesn't push him away or snarl in a displeased fashion. Derek leans in close and kisses his shoulder and despite Stiles' own body temperature, he feels a flush of warmth on the inside at Derek scenting him, at a nose brushing against his throat. Normally Stiles might be embarrassed about one of the wolves smelling him so closely but he likes it, he likes this.

Derek's response isn't what Stiles is expecting. Stiles is expecting Derek to give some disgruntled retort and maybe a 'shut it, Stiles'... but it never comes. Derek actually sounds pleased or proud maybe? Stiles doesn't really understand why. Maybe it's an Alpha thing. 

"Well... I wouldn't want any of them here with me," Stiles admits. While he's more comfortable with Scott, he can't imagine Scott "helping" him out. That just seems way too whack. But Derek? Derek is different. Stiles feels like Derek won't flinch away from him even if he's being difficult or even if things get tricky and that's important.

* * *

This is something that Derek likes to think he'd never have done without the flood of Heat on his senses. Though at present, with the sweetness of Stiles' slick on his tongue, he finds the idea of not doing this before to be highly depressing. Maybe Derek had never planned on acting on the thoughts he's had over the last few years; Stiles is still infuriating after all. But the thought of taking it all back now isn't one that Derek wants to entertain. 

He's still hard and aching, but it's such a distant concern when Derek takes in the feeling of Stiles under him, and Stiles' arms wrapped around his neck. He blatantly scents Stiles' throat, and while the small flicker of possessiveness (jealousy?) does exist in his mind, when Stiles answers him, all of it fades. Because... to Derek's surprise, Stiles admits that he wouldn't want anyone else in the pack here with him. Derek stills.

After a moment, he draws back enough to look down at Stiles with a small frown. There's something wary in his eyes despite how blown they are in lust even now, but Stiles' voice hadn't registered a lie. 

"No one?" He asks, like the concept is one that he can't quite wrap his head around. "What about Scott? You two are close." Derek isn't even going to start on Lydia or Malia. He doesn't know how to deal with them on a good day anyway.

* * *

Stiles isn't initially aware of what he's admitted and what it could mean or insinuate. He's safe and momentarily sated, the crush of the Heat easing and Stiles' mouth moves without thought. He can't imagine someone else helping him. Even if it was just Scott giving him a ride home, Stiles thinks it probably would have been awkward. He loves Scott, of course. Scott is like a brother to him, but he doesn't exactly want his brother smelling his slick, okay? That's a no.

Derek, while not as friendly or warm as Scott, is resolute and tenacious. Derek won't flinch away from unpleasant truths. Derek has also been through some serious shit and in some ways Stiles feels like he can relate to Derek more now than when they first met. Guilt is a powerful emotion after all.

As a nose rubs along his throat, Stiles knows Derek is smelling him -- scenting him again. He knows he smells like Heat, like 'please fuck and knot me asap' but Stiles also wonders if he still smells like himself. It's not _all_ eau du Omega in Heat is it? Somehow the thought of _not_ smelling like he used to smell kinda sucks. Derek seems to be taken back by what he's admitted because Derek actually pulls back to look down at him and Stiles' head angles up to meet Derek's eyes. 

Derek looks slightly flushed, still aroused, but also wary for some reason? "Not even Scott," Stiles confirms as there's no point in lying about it "It would be weird just to have him see me like this... I mean, he's like my brother but you... I trust you to do what's necessary, yeah? Even if it's difficult or awkward." Stiles takes a deep breath as he rests his forehead on Derek's chest amidst the dark hair found on his chest.

* * *

Derek's not expecting that. Despite the arousal still gnawing at him, despite the need still clawing deep in his throat, he draws back enough to look down at Stiles, and his expression is both wary and shocked. Yet under the surface, under all the wariness is something else, and Derek doesn't know what to do with it. 

He feels... touched. Humbled, in a sense. Maybe it's just the Heat talking. Maybe it's literally just that Stiles trusts him to do this with a sense of detachment, or that he expects Derek to just perform what's expected of him. (I trust you to do what's necessary... he doesn't like the way that sounds.)

But even if this is just something quick and shameful, Derek is going to focus on what that means. And what that means is that Stiles wants to be here with him. He's choosing Derek for something over Scott, and Derek... he can't remember that ever happening before. Stiles has agreed with him a few times, and they're closer than they had been, but when it comes down to it, it's always Scott and Stiles against the world. 

Derek doesn't know if being glad that Scott isn't included in this makes him a bad person. He's pretty sure it does, but he doesn't really care. 

So when Stiles shifts and then ducks his head, all but hiding among Derek's chest hair, Derek looks down at him, quiet, and then finally shifts. He braces one arm on the bed to support himself and then slides his free hand down, curling it into 

Stiles' sweaty hair to stroke once, and then grip lightly. It's a grounding touch more than anything else.

"This isn't awkward or difficult. I've been-," Derek cuts himself off, because admitting to thinking about this outside of Stiles' Heat? Yeah. That's a quick way to complicate things. He frowns, then soldiers on. "I can do this. I'm glad to. I'm glad you feel like you can trust me with this. As an Alpha, and as your pack Alpha."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, he needs more hands if he wants to touch Derek everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, ze end! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑) ❤ We hope you enjoy it!

Stiles knows that it's okay to need things and be vulnerable. It's a human thing. If it's him providing the care or comfort, he has no problem. Sure he doesn't always know how to respond or what to say or do, but he'd never make fun of his friend's feelings. He's always been comfortable giving hugs or pats on the back or being the shoulder to cry on. But this... this is different because it's _him_ who feels needy and vulnerable. He's in this desperate position where he's reliant on Derek to help him through. And he's also just admitted to _only_ wanting Derek to help versus anyone else. And before that, he admitted to previously thinking about Derek sexually. Maybe Derek will put two and two together? 

It can't be helped. What's said is said. Maybe Stiles can blame some of this on his Heat because he'd probably never have admitted to thinking about doing things with Derek. Such an admission would just be a no-no considering how long they've been friends for. It's just... You don't do that to a friend (or at least you don't share it). If anything was going to have happened between them, surely it would have by now. At least that's what makes sense to Stiles. 

But right now he does feel kind of vulnerable as he hides against Derek's chest. Stiles resists squirming but when Derek raises a hand to stroke through his hair and then hold, Stiles does feel better. 

_'I can do this. I'm glad to. I'm glad you feel like you can trust me with this. As an Alpha, and as your pack Alpha.'_

Derek's words also help, like a balm of some kind (although he doesn't miss that Derek had started to say something). He's really glad that Derek doesn't find this awkward or difficult. 

"As my Alpha..." Stiles mumbles and pushes his head against Derek's hand in his hair. "Can we shower? I know I'm just going to get messy again... But I feel like it would be nice?"

* * *

Derek wants to put two and two together, but after so long with whatever this thing is between him and Stiles, Derek can't help but be leery. While the thought that maybe Stiles likes him does occur to him, the thought that maybe Stiles is sexually attracted to him also occurs to Derek. He wouldn't be the only one. Derek's used to being the subject of fantasy, and not much else. He wouldn't fault Stiles if that was the case, but Derek isn't about to assume any more than that because vulnerability isn't really his strong point. 

Stiles is being vulnerable for him, though. It's a slight shock to realize as Stiles shifts in Derek's hold, like he's trying to feel the grip in his hair a little more. Derek tightens his hold in response, acknowledging Stiles' desire for it, and when Stiles asks Derek if they can shower, Derek swallows, thinks only for a second, and then nods. Stiles can't see him, but he makes a point of raking his fingers through Stiles' hair once to calm him. For some reason, Stiles seems a little... embarrassed? No. Just off. Shy. Though, really, presenting at this age? Derek can understand being shy after being thrust into this situation. 

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Derek says, and not just because the words ' _my Alpha_ ' send a possessive thrill through his veins. Derek fights off the thoughts that spark and when he draws back, it's with a small muss of Stiles' hair and a quick smile that he hopes looks reassuring and not painfully-awkward or dazed. It's a toss-up at this point. Stiles' taste and scent are still like an aphrodisiac and Derek feels painfully hard. But he can wait. He's not an animal. 

"You... want to walk, or do you want to be carried? It's okay. I know contact is, uh... really important for Omegas."

* * *

While Stiles knows that his slick apparently smells good, he's also stupidly sweaty and he feels kinda gross and just not himself. He knows it's going to be a lost cause because he'll continue to sweat and leak and likely come all over himself again (and maybe even again after that). Still, until then, Stiles knows a shower will feel good. He's planning on Derek showering with him, too. Derek leaving is pretty much out of the question. Stiles can't imagine Derek being nearby - in the apartment - but _not_ with him in the shower. 

It's not exactly a great feeling to be needy. Derek may claim that this isn't awkward, but Stiles isn't so sure now that he's realizing what he's asked for and implying... A shower _together_... Yeah, they're both naked. Yeah, Derek's face has been between his ass and licking up his slick, even fucking his hole with a tongue. Yeah, there's a slight beard burn from Derek's face that Stiles is distantly aware of, but somehow doing something so couple-y like showering apparently has caught Stiles off guard.

When Derek pulls away after agreeing, Stiles sits up and tries to not imagine how disheveled he likely looks. Stiles smiles back, a little chagrined that they're going through such an experience together, but after freakin' fairies, what's a sudden late onset of a Heat? 

The question of being _carried_ has Stiles' nose scrunching up. Derek says it's fine and Derek could easily do it, but the idea seems really embarrassing as the only times Stiles has ever been carried is if he's injured and he's pretty sure his legs work just fine. 

"No, I can walk, I'm not an invalid," Stiles replies as he scuttles off the bed. Already he feels an unhappy lurch at being away from Derek, so he remedies it by stepping closer to Derek as he stands.

* * *

Derek knows what Stiles says, but what Stiles' body says to him is much different. Stiles tells him that he doesn't need to be carried, and a part of Derek is okay with letting it go. It would be awkward considering what they are to one another, and the dynamic they've shared so far, but when Derek focuses on the way that Stiles acts once there's even a small amount of space between them, Derek's instincts - both sides of them - have another view entirely. It doesn't matter when Stiles steps in closer; Derek's already made up his mind. 

"It's not about you being an invalid, Stiles," Derek says with a small roll of his eyes. He stands up, his cock still hard and aching and red with desire, but the look that he sends Stiles has very little of that show. Instead Derek reaches over with both hands and unceremoniously lifts Stiles up off of the ground. He pulls Stiles in close, chest-to-chest, and encourages Stiles to wrap his legs around his waist. It... is ridiculously tempting because Derek's cock can practically feel the fevered sweetness of Stiles' hole like this, but he doesn't press the advantage in the least. Instead he braces Stiles with his hands and easily carries him into the bathroom. 

Derek doesn't put him down as he reaches over to start the water. Honestly, Stiles doesn't weigh much of anything to him. He's warmth and familiarity and he smells amazing, and Derek definitely presses his face to Stiles' throat a few times here and there to drink in his scent. He keeps Stiles up against him with one hand, rumbling a low, soothing growl in the back of his throat, and when the water seems hot enough to comfort, Derek just up and steps into the shower with Stiles. Though, once there, he does let him slide back down onto the tile, but he makes a point to stay close. 

"There. Better?"

* * *

As he comes to stand closer to Derek, Stiles can see blatant evidence of how turned on Derek is. Derek's sporting a massive boner and it's because of him. 

No. It's because of his Heat. Stiles needs to remember that. Him going into his first Heat is why Derek is doing any of this. Still... there is a very real part of Stiles that enjoys seeing Derek hard because it at least involves him. His ogling doesn't exactly last as Derek apparently vetoes him and just scoops him up like a toddler. Immediately, relief and rightness wash over Stiles from the contact. He wraps his legs around Derek's waist and Stiles is well aware that this has Derek's dick rather close to his ass and... yeah, he's tempted to try and wiggle down against it but before he can decide to go for it, they're already in the bathroom. 

But Derek doesn't put him down immediately. Derek continues to carry him while starting up the shower and Stiles doesn't know how that actually makes him feel (or if he does, he definitely doesn't want to think or acknowledge it). Instead, Stiles basks in Derek's closeness, the scratch of Derek's beard against his throat and the lower soothing growl Derek makes (that, in turn, makes Stiles' body really pleased). After Derek deems the water hot enough, Derek carries him in and then gingerly places him down on his feet. It's only then that Stiles realizes how off his game he is because he could have totally mocked Derek for carrying him. 

The hot spray from the shower is heavenly. Of course, Stiles already feels hot, but he can't imagine taking a cold shower -- that'd be jarring. Stiles dips his head back, a pleased sigh following as the sweat is rinsed off his body. 

"God, yeah," Stiles murmurs. "Better." He knows he's sounding like an idiot, but it feels good to be rinsed of uh... everything. Stiles shuffles and turns around under the spray and he's going to blame the Heat for having him take half a step back so Derek's cock brushes against his ass. Stiles trembles at the contact and he's immediately rubbing against Derek.

* * *

Stiles is off his game, but Derek's actually okay with it. He smells like heaven, his scent thick and sweet, and the taste of him is still lingering on Derek's tongue as he wets his lips and watches Stiles tip his head back and enjoy the spray. Derek watches the way the water slides down Stiles' throat, and he's not even going to bother blaming Stiles' Heat for the way something in his instincts lurches with the desire to sink his teeth into the long column of Stiles' throat. He fights the urge back, pulse quickening, and instead Derek takes great, obvious pleasure in watching the way that Stiles looks when he turns around. 

He's seen Stiles shirtless a few times, and the first time he had, Derek had been shocked over how broad Stiles' shoulders had grown, and how lean his muscles had become. Now, this close, really able to look, Derek notes the constellations of freckles and beauty marks all over Stiles' skin and how the water sluices down Stiles' back in a very attractive manner. He feels the stirring of instinct again, but before he can say anything else, Stiles suddenly backs up into him and Derek swallows at the faint, almost-teasing brush of Stiles' ass against his dick. Derek lets out a slow breath to keep his control, but when Stiles pushes back more and then begins to rub up against Derek's cock, Derek bites back a soft groan and reaches down, setting his hands on Stiles' hips. 

He begins to pull Stiles away, half-tempted to just keep him focused, but the extra contact - feeling the hot water and Stiles' skin so damn soft against his dick - has Derek shuddering. After a moment, he curses softly under his breath and steps in closer, nuzzling his cheek against the back of Stiles' shoulder and rocking his hips. He doesn't thrust, doesn't even come close to taking the way he wants to, but he rubs his cock against Stiles' ass, feeling the hint of slick and soft skin he could easily lose himself in. 

Derek's groan is more of a growl as he presses his lips to Stiles' shoulder. "Fuck, you feel good..."

* * *

A shower shouldn't probably feel so good, but it does. The water is lovely, the pressure not too weak or strong. It's both refreshing and soothing. Having so much fucking relief and pleasure at Derek's proximity is a new thing for Stiles. Being in Heat is a majorly new development, as well as, surprise! He's an Omega. Lotsa newness. At least hormones and instincts are paving the way because this doesn't feel as awkward as it should be. Mentally, Stiles is aware that this is Derek he's naked with and Derek had just fucked his ass with his tongue and they're gonna have nasty Heat sex soon. Up until this point, Stiles has only seen Derek shirtless (and vice versa). Christ. What a day. 

Having Derek naked and near, Stiles wishes he could focus and really take it in, but everything feels kinda hazy. The nogitsune had felt like ice, like a cruel coldness settling into bones that threatened to seize his breathing, but the Heat is opposite. Stiles is sensitive and burning up, his nerves feel alight and Derek is a matching heat source, warm and welcome and Stiles wants to lose himself in Derek's bulk, in muscles and body hair. There's really no thought in what Stiles does. He wants to feel Derek's dick so he rubs his ass against it. 

Strong hands grasp his hips and Stiles isn't even thinking what could happen. Derek could push him away, but quickly enough Derek is stepping closer and more of their skin is touching and it's suddenly much, much better. Derek pushes against him and his dick slides up against his cleft and it's a perfect tease. A bearded cheek scratches its affection against his shoulder and Stiles' head lolls back, pretty much basking in the contact. Derek's voice is low and sexy and it causes a small shudder to go through him. 

"Y-you too," Stiles shakily responds. His eyes open and it's then his iffy control then snaps. "Fuck, please touch me, touch me everywhere," Stiles pleads as he turns around to face Derek. His cock is apparently hard again and it bumps into Derek's own erection as Stiles' hands reach out to grasp onto Derek's biceps. "I want to touch you... _More_." His hair is plastered down and they're both wet. The shower is obviously not the best place for anything sexy to be happening, it's a little impractical, but whatever. Stiles wants what he wants.

* * *

It's a measure of Derek's self control that he doesn't just spread Stiles' ass and work at slowly sinking his cock inside. He wants to, and for reasons more than just his current instincts. The desire to feel Stiles' heat wrapped around him, the desire to see his expression go slack, to _learn_ the nuances of it? That's what Derek wants. It's what he feels like he's wanted for fucking years by this point, but it's always been too dangerous, too deadly. There have always been too many threats and deaths, and it's never been the right time. _This_ isn't even the right time, and Derek hates that _this_ is what is going to give him a taste of this in the end. It'll make it that much worse when Stiles awkwardly avoids him later or, worse, treats him differently.

But he can't leave Stiles on his own. Derek's instincts won't let him, and he _is_ Stiles' Alpha. His pack Alpha. Even though Scott's involvement has been tenuous at best, and while sometimes he and Derek still don't see eye-to-eye, Stiles has become someone who Derek can depend on. He's been a port in the storm on more than one occasion and Derek only hopes that he can be that for Stiles now. 

So when Stiles' voice suddenly shakes and he begins to beg, Derek shudders against the wave of desire he feels. He wants to bite, wants to press his teeth against the meat of Stiles' shoulder and claim him _and_ turn him, but he's not going to do either. Instead, when Stiles turns around and Derek feels the silken slide of Stiles' dick against his own, he groans and reaches down, pulling their hips flush together. He doesn't need further prompting. Stiles wants to touch him, and Derek wants to _be_ touched. He leans in and noses just under Stiles' ear, then lightly takes the shell of Stiles' ear between his teeth. 

It means that Stiles can hear the roughness to his tone when he growls, "touch me wherever you want. As much as you want." He breathes in Stiles' scent, and one of his hands slides down further to gently squeeze at Stiles' ass, his fingertips only just grazing where his hole is growing slicker and puffier. "God... you're okay with this? Really?"

* * *

It's weird to want something Stiles had only ever been vaguely curious about. Either way, there is an itch deep within Stiles and he knows only getting fucked and knotted will scratch it. It's definitely on his mind and he _does_ want to get to that, but naked and under the shower with Derek means Derek is actually available and Stiles doesn't want to take this moment for granted. He has a chance to touch and be touched and having just got off, Stiles feels more like himself, a little more focused.

So he asks or mentions it because why not? Derek has been pretty accommodating in this and he doesn't see why Derek would say no. Derek obviously wants to fuck him. Derek's cock is big and serious and still hard and it wants to get up all inside of him. Derek takes the hint and then pulls him closer, their dicks rubbing against each other's bellies and Stiles immediately enjoying the increase in closeness.

When Derek's teeth close around his ear, Stiles shivers because Derek sounds sexy as fuck. This is like the best porn _ever_ because it's featuring him and it's actually real. And it only gets better because Derek is giving him permission to touch _wherever_ and as much as he wants. Stiles feels a bit like a kid in a candy store with his parent's credit card and permission to go wild. 

And then he doesn't feel like a kid at all because one of Derek's hands is traveling _lower_ and fingers are rubbing against him where he's hot and antsy. Stiles shudders, blunt nails digging into Derek's arms and then the question comes, like Derek is checking in and wanting _his_ permission. 

"Duh, of course-- course I am!" Stiles sputters as his hands rub over Derek's shoulders. God, he needs more hands if he wants to touch Derek everywhere. He glances up and decides to go for it, kissing at Derek's wet neck.

* * *

Derek wants his hands all over Stiles. He wants it all. He wants to know how Stiles looks getting his dick sucked as badly as he wants to know if Stiles' sides are ticklish, or how he reacts to being kissed behind his knees. Now that the gate has been opened and Stiles has given him permission, Derek feels a little overwhelmed with everything that he _could_ do. Instinct knows that it wants Derek to bend Stiles over and fuck him into the temporary satisfaction that comes with a Heat, but Derek wants more than that. He wants Stiles' hands exploring, his lips following suit, and he wants to feel Stiles all over. 

Hands come to grip onto his arms when Derek touches between Stiles' slick asscheeks, and Derek rumbles a low sound of satisfaction, encouraging. Stiles doesn't push him away or tell him to stop, so Derek keeps his fingers resting there, keeps touching where Stiles' heat is beginning to rival his own temperature. And then tentative kisses are being pressed to his neck, and Derek goes still. He's an Alpha in more ways than one, and a part of him maybe shouldn't be all for it, but he is. He tilts his head to the side, baring his throat in a way he should _never_ do, but it feels right to do it right now.

Derek's hands grip a little harder, one sliding up Stiles' back and tracing the line of muscles there, the other giving his ass an appreciative squeeze. Derek leans in, pressing a line of kisses along Stiles' shoulder, stubble scratching but softening by the hot water. The slick along his lips is sadly being washed away and Derek steals a final taste while he can, but he makes it up to himself by gently teasing his finger along Stiles' hole. He slides over it slowly, rubbing his encouragement, and presses the tip of his finger in just a little, just shallowly. 

"Is there something you want me to do, Stiles?" Derek asks hotly. "Anything. Just name it."

* * *

He really does need more hands. It's a ridiculous but true thought because Stiles wants to touch Derek's hair too. He wants to touch down Derek's back, to take in the impressive body and also to scratch over the tattoo that Derek literally had burned into his skin. Stiles wants to also interlock his fingers with Derek. But there's also the desire to be wrapped around Derek like a leech or a snake. Any contact they've had in the past has usually just been aggravated swats from Derek or life-or-death situations where Stiles is getting pushed out of the way. This is the first time that touching is happening because it's enjoyable and wanted.

And so what if it's because of his Heat that Derek is game? Stiles will suck it up and take it because if he's going to have to be an Omega and go into one Heat, he at least wants it with Derek and he's going to get it.

Stiles isn't thinking about the whole neck-bearing thing in relation to where his mouth is on Derek. Derek had clawed out Peter's throat to kill him and claim the werewolf Alpha status. It's a thing, but it's not a thing on Stiles' mind. He wants to kiss Derek everywhere even though he's mostly tasting shower water with some dirt and sweat. And while Stiles distantly is aware of Derek going still, he doesn't pay it any mind. He kisses Derek and squeezes along his arms that have hurled men and monsters alike. A moment later, Derek is elongating his neck and Stiles is all too enthused by the expanse of stubbled skin available to him.

His kissing becomes clumsy as Derek's finger lightly brushes against him and then pushes into him. One more distracted kiss is given until Stiles is resting his forehead in the crook of Derek's neck as he tries to focus on the words said to him. It's more than a little difficult as his body is screaming to push down on the tip of the finger inside of him (which is weird because he's never really wanted that _before_ but now he so totally does).

"Fuck," Stiles curses as his own fingers curl and nails dig into Derek's arms. It's apparently difficult to get his mouth and braining working together. "Finger... me? But kiss me? Can we do that too? Just wanna feel you all over, touch you. I need more hands."

* * *

_God_ , Stiles is hot inside. It shouldn't be surprising; Derek's no virgin. He's had plenty of sex before. This is _Stiles_ , though, and while Derek's body temperature is probably still higher, there's not much - if any - difference now. The tip of his finger pressing into Stiles' body has his cock twitching its interest against his stomach, and Derek swallows thickly past the surge of desire that bubbles up in his chest. The desire to jerk Stiles in closer and sink his teeth into his throat is practically suffocating at this point but Derek holds the urge back. He won't be one of _those_ Alphas, and he's certainly not going to turn Stiles against his wishes. 

It doesn't matter what Derek's instincts are howling at him. He's not ruled by them, and this is still an unexpected, sensitive moment. Derek might have had his tongue fucking into Stiles' hole not ten minutes ago, but this is still not something he wants to be hasty with. So when Stiles' kisses become distracted and nails bite pleasantly into Derek's biceps, it doesn't take long for him to agree to what Stiles wants. The thought of fingering Stiles open makes Derek _ache_ , but the thought of kissing him makes another kind of ache race through him. It strikes him then that they hadn't kissed, and... fuck, he'd fucked that one up. 

"Yeah," Derek breathes roughly, shaking his head quickly to get the water from his eyes. "Yeah, fuck, Stiles, of course we can. Just..." Derek glances at the shower head and then at the space between them. He quickly rifles through a few ideas and positions before he decides to just go with his gut. Before Stiles has a chance to suggest something of his own, Derek suddenly reaches down. 

He hooks both hands under Stiles' thighs and then lifts him up like he weighs nothing. Derek lifts Stiles until he's close enough to wrap his legs around Derek's waist, and then Derek shifts his grip, hands moving to cup Stiles' ass. It brings his cock deliciously close to Stiles' hole but Derek doesn't take the opportunity. Instead he lifts his chin, and before his fingers have even pressed into Stiles' slick heat, he's seeking out Stiles' lips with steadfast determination.

Derek kisses Stiles with a softness even he doesn't expect, and when he slowly slides one finger deep into Stiles' hole, it's almost an afterthought, not the main point. Still, that doesn't stop Derek's low, rumbling groan or the way he clutches Stiles even closer. 

* * *

Is it weird to ask to kiss? Maybe. Probably. It's not like kissing is _necessary_ to take care of a Heat. Stiles knows that much. But Derek hasn't been pushing to do the deed and get it over with. Derek has actually been pretty accommodating and Stiles really freakin' appreciates it. If his head was working better, he'd say as much, but alas, he's not firing on all cylinders and it's totally not his fault. 

There's an incessant itch under his skin, a need thrumming the almost feels frightening in its intensity but thankfully it doesn't veer into that territory. Stiles isn't left alone and he's not being pulled down into an escapable abyss. Somehow Stiles manages to get out what he wants and while Derek can't do anything about the restriction of only having two hands, he can do the rest.

The desire to kiss Derek... It's been there before. Of course it has. Doing a lot of things to and with Derek has flitted around in his head since they met a few years ago in the preserve. And Stiles likes kissing and hey, if this is his only chance, Stiles should take it. The suggestion of him being fingered... It can't really be helped. He needs more. The desire is burning, an restless hunger clawing at him. Stiles is hoisted up and he sees nothing wrong with this new position.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and even though Derek's cock is close, it doesn't push its way inside. Then Derek's mouth is on his and Stiles' eyes close as he kisses back, the scratch of stubble perfect. The stream of the shower hits his back pleasantly and when a finger pushes inside of him Stiles immediately rocks back against it enthusiastically. The kiss is almost gentle and somehow that makes Stiles' heart ache. His body hungrily clenches around Derek's finger and he gasps when he breaks away. 

"Another, Derek," Stiles pleads. "More." And then he's back kissing at Derek and not minding the shortness of breath at all.

* * *

Derek likes kissing even if he doesn't get it very often. Given his track record, when someone actually _wants_ to kiss him, he usually can't even enjoy it as all he can think of is whether someone's trying to manipulate him through it or not. But Stiles... Derek trusts Stiles. Stiles might be odd and he might be unpredictable, but one thing Derek knows Stiles _is_ is loyal. There's no ulterior motive here, and it means that when Derek kisses Stiles and feels Stiles _immediately_ wrap his arms around his neck, something that feels vaguely fractured begins to come together in Derek's chest. 

Stiles doesn't hesitate in kissing back. Is he the best kisser in the world? No. But he smells so damn sweet and his hands are everywhere, clutching and gripping and stroking at Derek's nape and his hair. He's not passive, and what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with enthusiasm. Derek clutches Stiles closer just to feel him squirm, and he's not disappointed as the kiss steadily deepens, half because Derek pushes, and half because Stiles' keeps trying to fuck himself back on Derek's fingers, and Derek only has so much control. 

He still holds Stiles securely, though. Despite the slickness of the tub and the mild slick of a different sort dribbling out wet around Derek's finger, Derek doesn't let Stiles fall. He feels the clench of Stiles' hole around his finger and his own dick twitches in response, but Derek's pleasure is second. Kissing Stiles requires breathing through his nose, and breathing through his nose means that every breath is full of Stiles' Heat-scent. It's intoxicating. It's _almost_ better than having Stiles wrapped around him and begging for another finger. Almost.

Derek doesn't even register the growl rumbling in his throat until he's already kissing Stiles again. This time, while still careful, Derek pushes. He kisses Stiles deeper, biting pointedly at his lower lip with human teeth and then throwing caution to the wind. Derek licks into Stiles' mouth, tasting him deeply, and it's not even a little weird. 

The second finger he slides deep into Stiles' body meets only the barest bit of resistance and Derek groans roughly at the heat and slickness that welcome him. He swears he can feel Stiles' slick dripping down his fingers, and Derek pumps them in pointedly, feeling warm, wet tightness that makes him _ache_ to feel Stiles shaking apart against him. 

* * *

Stiles has the realization that he's being rather clumsy or inelegant right now with Derek. He's squirming against the finger pushing into him and his hands are trying to reach and touch whatever they can. 

It really can't be helped. He's experiencing his first Heat and there's absolutely no way Stiles can be put together right now. _Derek_ is also the problem because, take away the Heat and surprise reveal that he's apparently an Omega, this is like a fantasy come true. It hasn't exactly been conscious on his part to fantasize about Derek. He can't help where his early morning dreams may drift off into. Stiles is surrounded by hot people. It's a problem. Derek is included in that list of course, but Derek isn't just hot. There's more to Derek than his looks and Stiles, well, Stiles likes all the bits of Derek. 

His fierce loyalty. His desire to do what's right. His grumpiness. His dry humor. The smiles he tries to not let the pack see. The determination that has kicked Stiles in the ass more than a few times. The fact that life has been cruel to Derek but Derek hasn't rolled over. There's a lot of good things about Derek -- the stuff inside that Stiles has learned about over the years.

Despite Derek working fingers inside of him, Stiles doesn't feel at risk of falling or anything. Derek kisses him rougher, deeper, and Stiles responds eager and hungry and drinking up the growl that Derek's given. Two fingers push inside of him and it's weird to be wet from the shower but also feel that he's definitely leaking from his body. The slight resistance isn't even uncomfortable. It's just a sensation and as Derek's finger curl, Stiles shakes and moans as a jittery pleasure is forced on him. He breaks away from the kiss to breath better, his body burning up yet being held so securely by Derek. 

He's back kissing and touching Derek a few seconds later, basking in the attention as Derek's fingers slide in and out to stretch him. This time, Stiles doesn't even have to ask for another finger, Derek just seems to know that it's what Stiles needs. Fullness and pressure that he's never felt before encapsulates everything and Stiles can feel himself grow hazy with a single-minded need. 

Stiles hears himself grow louder even amidst the shower spray, he's moaning and kissing sloppily before he pulls away again to plead, "I think... I think it's now. Now _now,_ for the thing. Please? But not in the shower."

* * *

Derek knows that this is something that Stiles needs, but as Stiles' hands clutch at his shoulders and Stiles' small breaths keep escaping him on shallow gasps or shivers, Derek's beginning to suspect that this is also something that Stiles might want. It feels... dangerous to even think, but Stiles had claimed that he'd wanted _Derek_ to help him out. Not Scott, not Lydia, not any of the other alphas who could have eased his unexpected Heat just as easily. 

Derek. He'd wanted Derek, and as he feels the impossible heat of Stiles' body clenching around his fingers, and swallows each desperate moan, Derek wonders how he's going to go back to 'normal' after this. Stiles is all clutching hands and desperate kisses. It's not graceful, but Derek doesn't _want_ this to be. This is Stiles.

If this _is_ his only chance, he's not wasting it. So whatever Stiles asks him for, Derek gives him, and he basks in it. Each kiss is clumsy-but-perfect, and as Derek carefully fucks Stiles with his fingers, he drinks down every sound that Stiles makes like he can taste them. He kisses Stiles deeper, mindless of the water from the shower, not caring about how awkward it could be to hold Stiles up against him. He weighs almost nothing as far as Derek is concerned, and when he does something particularly good and feels Stiles' muscles clench and spasm around his soaked fingers, Derek's groan is as sharp as each kiss. 

Two fingers become three when he feels like Stiles is fucking himself back on two like it isn't quite enough, and Derek feels the possessive snarl building in his chest when the added finger gets Stiles' scent spiking with need. Derek pushes, fucks Stiles harder with his fingers, and he's fully willing to get Stiles off again _just_ like this, but then Stiles' voice breaks on a helpless moan that shoots right down to Derek's dick. The plea is sweet and desperate, and Derek's instincts are like a roar in his mind, pushing him to _mount_ and _take_ and _knot_. With effort, he swallows as much of it back as he can, trying to keep his head at least somewhat clear. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do now," Derek manages, his voice rougher with arousal. He gives his fingers a twist, dragging the pads of them over Stiles' prostate, and he holds him close to keep Stiles from jerking out of his hold. As Derek turns the water off in the shower, he briefly skims over possibilities in his mind. A part of him wants to throw Stiles over the counter closest to the shower, but Derek can acknowledge that it's instinctual. It's need. The wall is closer, but Derek wants to feel as much of Stiles as he possibly can. 

Derek takes Stiles back to his bed, because he has fucking self control and he's not an _animal_. It takes only a second to coax Stiles onto it, and Derek isn't sure if Stiles just does it, or if one of them suggests it, but Stiles eagerly climbs onto his knees, his ass in the air, presenting, and Derek feels his eyes flicker red, his cock throbbing. With a curse, he crawls over Stiles, leaning in and burying his face in against the damp hair at Stiles' nape. His fingers are wet with Stiles' slick, and he can feel the impossible heat of Stiles' body pressing up against his cock, but Derek doesn't brace himself, and he doesn't thrust in. 

Instead he noses in against Stiles' nape, breathing in his scent. He only has one question. "Are you sure?"

* * *

Yes, his phrasing could use a little work. It's hardly sexy dirty talk that he's giving Derek. Stiles is actually half decent at dirty talk when he's on his game. He _likes_ being filthy, but it feels like the Heat is fogging up his brain, like his thoughts are being saturated with too much steam from being in a sauna too long. 

But it can't be helped. Derek has been... Kind of like a gentleman with him here. He hasn't just thrown Stiles to the bed and mounted him outright. Stiles can't know how Derek's instincts may be ferociously pushing him to do just that either. Stiles isn't in Derek's position. It's difficult to try and reverse it and think of himself as an Alpha trying to help an Omega with their Heat. He understands how is own hormones are affecting _him_ , but Stiles kind of feels like a confused helpless idiot who's really horny and Derek definitely doesn't seem like that.

Before Derek's fingers leave, they twist and brush inside of him just right and Stiles jolts, but doesn't go anywhere. Derek still has him. Stiles distantly registers the water being turned off. The lower part of his face feels a little sore from the stubble burn but he doesn't mind it. Maybe it'll be a memento from this experience. Stiles holds onto Derek, feeling like he apparently weighs _nothing._

He's gently placed down on the bed and Stiles isn't thinking as he immediately scrambles to his knees with his waiting ass in the air. He knows that this the norm. Derek will fuck into him behind and knot him and then--

Stiles takes in a deep breath and he tenses in anticipation as he feels Derek get onto the bed and crawl over him. It doesn't matter that he's still wet from the shower, his body's temperature is hot. Derek is draped over him, his face against the back of Stiles' neck and Stiles practically purrs in satisfaction. He can feel Derek's dick there - so close but not pushing in yet - but then a question is posed to him and Stiles does pause to think. 

"Yeah, 'course-- 'course I am," Stiles says and to demonstrate as such, he wiggles his ass against Derek. He can tell he's dripping wet and the need is pounding in his veins but Derek is so close, Derek is going to take care of him and Stiles feels good about it.

* * *

Stiles is ready for him. Derek can feel it, but more importantly, Derek's instincts can. He's not about to lose his mind to a damn rut, but he _is_ an Alpha, and it's getting difficult to remain objective when Stiles smells like the sweetest thing that Derek's ever had. Still, Stiles' permission is important, and no matter how badly Derek wants to just sink into searing, wet tightness, he doesn't. He makes himself wait, breathing rougher, his lips pressing half-absent kisses against Stiles' nape as he waits for Stiles to answer. When he does, when Stiles' voice shakily breaks on his permission, Derek has to close his eyes to keep himself from just driving into Stiles' body like an animal. He's better than that.

But Stiles isn't making it easy. Derek feels the way that Stiles squirms back, wiggling his ass, and Derek curses a rough sound in the back of his throat as he buries his face in against Stiles' hairline. He growls a soft, "Stiles," in warning, but it sounds like praise even to his ears, and Derek doesn't think there's much separation anymore. He knows that Stiles is ready because his fingers are soaked with slick, and he can smell the wet, honeyed scent everywhere. He'd been loose enough around Derek's fingers to negate any real worry of hurting him, but that doesn't mean that when Derek lines himself up properly, his pulse skipping in his chest, that he doesn't take _great_ care to take his time.

"Fuck, Stiles... okay, yeah. Take a breath for me," Derek instructs, his voice tight, and then he braces his dick with one hand and braces himself on the bed with the other. And slowly, ever so carefully, he bites his lip hard and begins to sink into a heat so blazing, soft, and wet that his instincts all but howl at him to just _slam_ in and fuck into the Omega under him. It takes considerable control to _not_ do that, but Derek's not about to hurt Stiles. He bites his lower lip to bleeding (but it heals quickly) and when the head of his cock finally slides into tight, wet heat, the sound that Derek makes is almost wounded.

He abandons the task of holding his dick steady, because Stiles is so fucking _wet_ , Christ. Derek's pretty sure he could sink in nice and slow and not even need to brace himself. So he presses his other hand on the bed beside Stiles' head and painstakingly begins to slide in deeper, leaning down to press his cheek to Stiles' shoulder.

"Tell me if it's too fast," Derek breathes out, the sound almost feral. "God, Stiles, you feel so _good_."

* * *

_Finally_. They're finally going to be doing it. Wow. Derek is going to fuck him and in doing so Stiles' Heat should calm the fuck down a little because Derek will knot him and biology dictates that that is apparently the best thing right now. Hip hip hooray, give him the knot! (If only all of life's problems could be solved by such a simple thing.)

Despite the raging need, Stiles is still appreciative that Derek asks and double checks with him (which has been a constant throughout this night). It's pretty damn impressive that Derek hasn't lost his mind yet (not that Stiles is thinking all that straight). His wiggling has Derek growling out his name and fuck, Stiles likes that. He thinks he could maybe come just with Derek draped over him and repeating his name close to ear, but okay, okay, that's not for now because he totally needs the D. Focus.

It's pretty damn difficult to stay still when he _feels_ Derek pull back a little and then line up his fucking dick to his sopping wet hole. Stiles is breathing quickly, a little embarrassed that he can feel so much slick dripping down his thighs. Is it too much? Is this normal? He never paid attention to this in sex-ed because he thought he'd escaped being an Omega... There's really no time to think too deeply on it because Derek is slowly pushing in. Being that the head of a dick is the widest part (as of right now) it's still a bit of stretch. It's not really painful per se, it's just a bit of a burning sensation but Stiles can tell that his body is already yipping happily at being filled. Weird.

Stiles is still breathing deep and slow and his toes wiggling as he begins to adjust to the sensation of a cock - Derek's cock, that is - pushing inside of him. It's pretty amazing and completely different than anything he's experienced. Stiles' own dick isn't even unhappy that it's not in a wet hot place. Everything is _right_ , it feels so _easy_ that it's almost unfair. Nothing in his life has ever been this easy. But this... this is easy. Derek is draped over him and Stiles shudders. It's intense, almost overwhelming but it somehow never veers into that. 

"It's good - great even - yeah, great," Stiles mumbles. And although it feels _right_ when Derek bottoms out, Stiles can't help but want _more_. "But, um, I kinda - don't get me wrong, my body likes the fuck out of this - but can we... Try another position? I want to see you." 

* * *

Every slow slide into Stiles' body is one that Derek makes with great care. He chants his status to himself on repeat, that he might be an Alpha, but he's also an Alpha _wolf_ and Stiles is a human. As much as Derek's instincts are snarling at him to just thrust and push and _knot_ , Derek holds himself back. This is Stiles' first time and despite how badly Derek wants to feel Stiles' hole clenching around his knot, Derek wants this to be _good_ for Stiles even more. He wants to hear Stiles crying out, wants to know that he's satisfied him properly. 

He wants Stiles to... maybe want this again down the road, even if it's just during his Heats. Fuck, how pathetic is that?

Derek chases the thought from his mind because he doesn't want Stiles picking up on it. This is about him, about _Stiles_ feeling good, and Derek's not going to risk that. So he carefully slides inside of Stiles' gripping, soft heat. And when he bottoms out, when Derek feels Stiles' body hot around the slightly looser skin that will eventually become his knot, he growls deep in his throat and hangs his head, struggling for some level of control. Stiles feels amazing, and that Derek's hands aren't clawed in his sheets is a miracle. 

He's working on how to do this without just up and _fucking_ Stiles when Stiles speaks up. Derek notes just enough hesitation to snap him out of it and listen. So with effort, he blinks hard and when Stiles claims to want to _see_ him, Derek... doesn't know what his instincts do. Is it his instincts? He can't tell. All he knows is that while a part of him wants to insist that _this_ is how to best satisfy an Omega, the rest of him is desperately into Stiles' idea. So Derek nods, chin brushing Stiles' shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Fuck, I want that too." And he does. It's a little terrifying, but he does. 

Derek carefully eases back, and though it pains him to draw out of Stiles' body, he does so. Then, using his hands instead of his words (because god knows that'd be a recipe for disaster), Derek guides Stiles onto his side. He's quick to drag a pillow down for under Stiles' hips, and then Derek lifts him, settling Stiles onto his back on Derek's bed. And... _fuck_ , he looks gorgeous like this, skin flushed, cock hard and aching, and lips that Derek wants to kiss again. Derek breathes a soft curse and then eases himself between Stiles' legs. With a touch to Stiles' hip, he looks him over blatantly, then swallows. 

"Lift... lift your legs a little for me."

And once Stiles has made room, once Derek can settle on top of him, he does. He reaches down to brace his cock again - soaked in Stiles' slick - and when Derek presses back inside, he doesn't hesitate as he leans in and catches Stiles' lips in another kiss. Fuck, if he can get away with it, he's going to.

* * *

Being mounted like this is normal. It's the traditional way of an Alpha to knot an Omega after all. Stiles knows this. Derek knows this. There is definitely a part of him that's satisfied by Derek filling him up, by the feel of Derek draped over him safely like a blanket. It's intense and demanding and it focuses Stiles. He finds himself a little less lost and floundering. Centered? Maybe that's the word.

Asking for something different though? That might threaten this awesome thing right now and Stiles definitely doesn't want that to happen. Too bad rocking the boat has always kinda been his thing, right? With Derek's dick pushed all the way inside of him, stretching him, Stiles' body is desperate for the fucking to get happening but maybe Stiles' heart wants something else and maybe that's okay.

Apparently, Derek is okay with it too and the relief that washes over Stiles is weird. There's definitely arousal at the idea of moving into another position because Stiles apparently really likes feeling Derek's cock inside of him; but there's also a warmth at the prospect of being able to _see_ Derek's face. If this is Stiles' first time taking it up the ass - his first Heat - can't it be a little more personal? (This is what he's going with.)

Stiles gives an unhappy "huh" at the feeling of being empty after Derek pulls out. It's entirely disquieting but he doesn't know how to voice it. Soon enough Derek is re-positioning him and Stiles goes willingly like a ragdoll. He's placed on his back with a pillow under to elevate his hips and as Stiles looks up, he sees Derek looking down at him - at _all_ of him - and Stiles feels dumbfounded. 

A part of him wants to smile, yet another part of him wants to shy away. He does nothing because Derek is telling him to lift his legs and then Derek is coming in between those legs and hooray dick!

But augh, Stiles can smell his slick coating said dick and it's still weird. Derek is quick to be merciful and slide back in. Some sort of relieved sound comes out of him when Derek's cock pushes inside his body, filling him so perfectly once more. And then Stiles' mouth is being occupied with a kiss that he is all too pleased to return. It takes him only a few seconds to realize Derek isn't moving and that won't do. Nope. So Stiles, as best as he can, jerks his hips up, desperate and not taking no for an answer. His Heat is burning, his own untouched cock still leaking and hard and Derek is bliss, but Stiles needs more.

* * *

Stiles kisses him back with a desperation that makes Derek ache. He feels his dick throb inside of Stiles' body, feels each wet, clenching grip of Stiles' muscles around him, and it's kind of amazing, how easily Derek can glean Stiles' desires through the feel of him. He can tell, for instance, that Stiles _really_ likes it when Derek bites gently at his lower lip. He feels Stiles' muscles flex around him when he does it, and when he licks into Stiles' mouth and growls, he all but flinches with pleasure at the feeling of Stiles' tight, gripping heat tightening around him. It's like slow torture and Derek wants to snarl at how good it feels, but he doesn't. He can handle himself like an adult.

But then Stiles' muscles tighten and before Derek can make any sort of sound, Stiles jerks his hips up so sharply that Derek breaks the kiss with an audible growl. It's like Stiles just tried to kickstart his instincts, and Derek's kind of dizzy to realize that it's _worked_. He feels the desire to just fuck into Stiles grow, and it takes real effort to wrestle for his control back. There's sweat pooling in the small of his back when he manages to grit his teeth through the worst of the wave of instinct, but Stiles' protest has been duly noted.

"Could have just asked," Derek murmurs against Stiles' lips, with a hint of teeth that are a little too close to fangs for Derek's liking. 

But what's done is done, and with Stiles' legs wrapped securely around him, Derek eases his hips back and then slowly rocks back in. He's careful, testing Stiles' limits for a few small thrusts as he kisses him. It's just to make sure that Stiles can handle it, but he can feel Stiles' impatience growing with every second. Finally, when Derek doubts that Stiles can handle it for much longer, he braces himself above Stiles, breaks away from the kiss to look down at him, rapt and hungry, and then snaps his hips forward. It's the first real, driving thrust, and it if weren't for Derek's arm keeping Stiles in place, it's likely he would have shoved him up the mattress. Derek shudders. 

"Fuck... that what you need, Stiles? Just like that? Tell me."

* * *

Yeah, Stiles could have asked, but doing had been easier so that's what he had done. He'd jerked his hips up. His brain is foggy with the Heat, it's sweltering and he feels like he's burning up with Derek. It's amazing. It's fucking amazing. Each point of contact between them has his skin tingling and pleased and while Stiles doesn't like the desperate neediness of a Heat, he can't deny that he doesn't like _this._

This is a blazing connection between them, the intensity is like a newfound addiction pulling him down. But he's not drowning, despite the screaming hunger and need Stiles feels so fucking safe and assured that Derek has him and that Derek will give him exactly what he needs and not let him fall or suffer. 

And Derek does, he thrusts - shallow - but the movement sparks a thrill through him anyway. Stiles kisses but eventually nips back at Derek's bottom lip impatiently. There's no longer an awkward stretch, but pressure and fullness and he can feel his fucking slick trying to escape when he's not clenching. His body is ready. _He's_ ready.

Then Derek gives a real thrust, pushing into him with a roughness that has Stiles' toes curling and him crying out as his head tilts back and his eyes squeeze shut. It takes Stiles a moment to re-open them - to look back at Derek - but he does. 

"God, please Derek, yeah, yeah, I need it-- need you so badly," Stiles confirms and he lifts his hands to bury them in the back of Derek's hair. "Fuck me hard 'till you knot me." His pulse may be elevated, but it doesn't skip. 

* * *

Derek's battling two instincts here. One is the clawing desire to bend Stiles in half and fuck him until Derek's knotted, until he feels Stiles' muscles clenching hard around him. But the other is the fact that he doesn't want to hurt Stiles. He doesn't want to leave him sore, doesn't want to make this an unpleasant experience. 

God, he doesn't want to do anything that might make Stiles decide _against_ asking him for help in the future. Maybe it's crazy to think like that, to consider what's going to happen so far in the future, but with Stiles' clenching heat around him, with Stiles' hands grabbing and the scent of his slick like honey on the air between them, Derek can't help himself. _God_ , he wants this. Wants Stiles. That he's got his run-in with goddamned fairies to thank is a cruel irony.

To Derek's relief and surprise, Stiles handles the harder thrust with ease. He's loud, sparking something primal in Derek's instincts, making him want to snarl, but it's clearly good. Stiles bares his throat (and Derek feels his jaw ache with the desire to sink his teeth in) and Derek shivers at the sound that Stiles makes, the desperation. It's proven one thing, though. Stiles is ready. Derek can't sense any overt pain in him, and when clumsy, desperate hands lift to bury in Derek's hair and _grip_ , Derek hisses in a sharp breath that escapes him on a moan at Stiles' request. 

"Fuck..."

Stiles wants that. Of course he wants to be knotted, but he wants _Derek's_ knot, and Derek feels impossibly dizzy with it. Desire rushes like an eclipse over his skin, and he doesn't think as he tightens his hold on Stiles, bracing him, making sure that each thrust won't knock Stiles' head against the wall. Derek pins him down and leans in, and as he catches Stiles' lips in a desperate kiss, he does what Stiles had asked. He braces himself, adjusts his angle, and then snaps his hips again. 

It feels fucking _amazing_ , driving into tight, wet heat, feeling Stiles' slick coating his skin. The sounds of skin slapping against skin would have been obscene enough, but there's a wetter sound, something that makes Derek think of properly satisfying his-- satisfying someone. It runs over his skin like a caress, and Derek does what Stiles had asked him to. He fucks him hard.

Derek remains mindful of Stiles being a human, makes sure not to fuck him to breaking, or actual pain, but his lip curls back in a silent, breathless snarl as he drives his cock into Stiles' body hard enough to shake him. There will be bruises later, he's sure, but Derek wants that. He wants a claim more than just the tingling burn in the beginnings of his knot.

* * *

Stiles hasn't forgotten the not-so-little fact that Derek is _also a_ werewolf and that Derek could technically hurt him in this. Stiles isn't afraid, though. Maybe it's because it's Derek and they've been friends for years and he knows Derek has his back because Derek has proven it countless times. Or maybe it's because of the whole 'Alpha here for an Omega' dynamic. Or perhaps it's because Derek hasn't messed up anything this night. Derek has been considerate and like a dream fucking come true to Stiles.

But Derek's harder thrust doesn't hurt him and Stiles has no qualms with _begging_ for Derek to keep at it until he gives him his knot. Yeah, Stiles is aware that during the worst of a Heat, he probably wouldn't be discerning _whose_ knot he was given, but Stiles isn't thinking about that. He doesn't want just anyone's knot and he doesn't want a knotted dildo either. 

Everything is blistering hot and sharp with Derek and Stiles knows this entire experience is raising the bar on sexual pleasure. Stereotypes on secondary genders aren't as bad as they used to be. Stiles had passed as a Beta for years, after all. But Heat sex...? Stiles is kind of a fan. 

Derek holds him as still as he can and Stiles' body is fully receptive to the forceful thrusts. With each movement, he can hear how wet he is and he can feel the slick leaking out of him. It hits him then that Derek isn't wearing a condom. Werewolves obviously can't catch anything so it makes sense. But the logic of it isn't what Stiles is thinking about. He's relishing in the realization that Derek's cock is directly feeling and smothered in his slick, in his scent. Stiles tries to watch Derek for as long as he can, seeing the almost primal urges flash over his face, but eventually, Stiles does need to squeeze his eyes closed. 

He's shuddering underneath Derek, his legs weakly wrapped around Derek's waist as his body clenches encouragingly. Stiles is far from quiet, his moans are punctuated with Derek's name and other curse words. He arches off the bed, the heat swirling over him and somehow even rising. The pleasure feels tense and unrelenting, his cock also freely leaking but when Derek adjusts his angle slightly, Stiles is almost shaking violently from the sudden assault to his prostate. 

"Fuck, please, please, please," he whines. Each thrust Derek gives feels like it leaves him almost breathless and like _almost_ too much.

* * *

Derek doesn't know how he's going to handle this after. How he's going to look Stiles in the eye and pretend that this hadn't been amazing, hadn't actually _meant_ something to him. Derek can feel the threat of emotion, of something more than simple Heat and instinct curling through him, and he knows already that he's lost. There is no pretending that this hasn't been monumental, that Stiles' tightness and slickness and heat aren't a fucking addiction in its infancy. 

With each driving, powerful thrust, Derek feels a different kind of need climbing higher and higher, feels pleasure burning in his chest. He shudders viscerally as he fucks into Stiles' body in quick, tight thrusts that have him groaning and cursing, have each breath escaping him on rougher gasps.

Stiles clings to him desperately, his grip tight but his legs half-falling away as Derek fucks him. So Derek reaches down with his free hand and curls it around Stiles' hip, lifting him up enough to change the angle. Stiles' body reacts immediately, and Derek locks the angle away in his mind, his thrusts almost assaulting as his hips snap up against Stiles' ass, the ache in the base of his cock beginning to grow. He breathes in the smell of Omega and Heat and _Stiles_ , and Derek curses at the first burning ache in his knot. For a moment, he tries to will it away, but as he drives into Stiles' body, as he feels the slick dripping down his own thighs, he feels the slight swelling of his knot caught and squeezed, and pleasure shoots through him like fire. 

Derek gasps, eyes flickering red as he shudders, and with the mantra of Stiles' pleading ringing in his ears, he nods, grits out a breathless, "yeah, Stiles, I've got you. I got you," and he rolls his hips in deep, grinding his dick against Stiles' prostate one moment, and then fucking him hard the next. He alternates, shuddering at every clenching pressure against his growing knot, but he makes Stiles' pleasure a focus until the begging is too sweet to handle. He grits his teeth and presses in again, but when he pulls back out, his knot is swollen enough to make it a little difficult, catching just enough to make Derek growl.

"Fuck, Stiles, I'm-- j-just relax for me. Just one more--" Derek breathes, and as he leans in, as he buries his face in against Stiles' throat and breathes him in greedily, Derek presses his hips in close, grinding down against the tighter hole until Stiles' body finally, blissfully gives way. Derek chokes on a breathless sound as his knot buries itself in Stiles' body and locks in, and it's so much heat, so much slick, _perfect_ tightness that Derek feels dizzy with it as he grinds deep and curls himself over Stiles.

* * *

As taken as Stiles is by his Heat and Derek's cock filling him so perfectly, there's a part of him that also recognizes that this is _more_ than hormones and biology; this is more than mere attraction and lust too. There's feelings, there's wants and desires, there's worry and longing too that aren't going to go away once he's knotted. Now isn't the time to be able to sort through any of it. Stiles knows that much. And it's frightening because if has a case of the feelings, if he's actually _in love_ with Derek that means there's a chance Derek could reject his ass too.

But what if Derek doesn't? What if Derek does have feelings for him that just so happen to be more than platonic pack feels? There's a chance of that, too. A slim chance, sure. But they're friends. Derek obviously likes him well enough. They have grown into a rather formidable team, too. Their teamwork isn't impeccable but it's much better than what they used to do.

Derek is unrelenting, thrusting hard enough to shake Stiles' entire body but then grinding in against his prostate. It's a hot and loud mess of slick and skin slapping and their sounds intermingled (because Derek actually isn't silent). Stiles feels impossibly full; Derek's cock is thick but somehow it fits. The miracle of anatomy or something... Oddly enough, Stiles can sense the stretch intensify. Just slightly at first and when his body figures out that is Derek's _knot_ swelling, it only intensifies Stiles' almost violent thrashing.

Derek doesn't stop. If anything, he gets into it more and Stiles feels tight like a drawn bow string, he's so close, he almost has it--

He can't really relax - how's he supposed to relax when he's about to get knotted and Derek's been fucking his brains out? Stiles does wince at the last thrust for it is _more_ of Derek pushing into him, but _ohmygod_ Stiles is so full and Stiles is clenching and shuddering as he's coming because Derek's knot is heaven. How can something feel like this? Holy shit. It's like nothing Stiles has ever experienced before. His nails dig into Derek's skin and Stiles is gasping out a surprised moan.

* * *

Derek is painfully close; knotting isn't like any other experience. It's a searing heat and tightness that triggers something animal in his brain, makes him want to snarl and bite and claw in ways very little else does. He doesn't, because he's still aware that this is Stiles, that Stiles could get hurt - or worse - were he to do so, but that doesn't mean that the impulse isn't there. 

It doesn't mean that Derek doesn't want to bury his fangs in Stiles' shoulder and hold him down as Stiles' body opens up underneath him and takes his knot so perfectly. But Stiles is his friend, and Derek... Derek _likes_ him. He wants this, wants more, but this is what he's got now and he's not going to waste it. He's going to push until Stiles begs him to stop, over-stimulated and needy.

It's the moment that Stiles' body suddenly locks down around him that Derek knows he's lost. It's beyond the way that Stiles suddenly begins to thrash against him, his nails cutting into Derek's shoulders. It's wild because Stiles _needs_ it, and Derek clenches his teeth together to resist the urge to bite Stiles instead. No fangs. Never fangs. Not unless someday Stiles _asks_ for that. But _God_ if the tight clench of Stiles' body - the feel of his hole twitching and tugging at Derek's knot - doesn't make him want to howl with the pleasure of it.

It's only after the first wet spurt of come hits Stiles' chest that Derek manages to reach down between them. He wraps his hand around Stiles' cock, groaning roughly as he strokes, jerking Stiles off and feeling the wet warmth of his come over Derek's hand. But it's the look on Stiles' face that really does it. The rhythmic clenching shoves him to the edge, but the blissed-out, flushed expression of absolute pleasure is what makes Derek's own orgasm slam into him so hard that he's half-amazed it doesn't bowl him right off the bed.

Derek curses Stiles' name roughly as he grinds in deep, basking in the wet sounds of Stiles' slick around his knot, and he groans brokenly when he comes, cock twitching and throbbing in Stiles' wet, tight heat, filling him the way Derek had ached to since this had started. How could anything _ever_ feel better than this? Derek clutches Stiles closer. How could he do anything else?

* * *

Stiles has no idea how this feels for Derek. At least, not the knotting bit nor the 'I better not hurt my partner because I'm a supernatural creature' bit. Stiles' dick has been inside of hot willing bodies before, and fuck yeah, that feels good. Stiles may be an Omega but that doesn't mean he _can't_ fuck. He doesn't plan on stopping that. His dick still works. Despite not familiar with being on the receiving end, the Heat and Derek are making this really fucking amazing. The fullness, the intensity, the stretch, the nudging against Stiles' prostate? The way Derek had pounded into him? It's been an experience and then some.

And now Stiles' body is finally, _finalllllly_ being properly sated because Stiles doesn't feel like he could possibly take anymore. He feels full. So full of Derek's big dick and his swollen knot. And Stiles had been coming untouched, but as Derek's hand touches his cock, Stiles is crying out, his eyes hazy with pleasure as Derek strokes him and despite his former orgasm, Stiles doesn't know how he's _still_ jizzing and now it's all over Derek's hand too (which is also hot).

Stiles barely comprehends that Derek's also coming. It's all wet, hot and confusing mess because yeah his own cock is finally starting to only dribble out a few beads of come and yet he knows he's still gushing slick and Derek's also coming inside of him. It's a lot of fluids, okay. But there's also the sensitivity that's rushing in as Derek's hand works him expertly. Stiles' body shakes, his hands falling away as he tries to breathe and focus on... Focus on what?

It's scorching pleasure, it's a blanket of perfect contentment settled over him because Derek's over him and his knot is hard and stuck inside. But then Derek's hand _keeps_ jerking him off and a familiar oversensitivity shoots through Stiles. Stiles blinks his eyes open, lifting his hand sluggishly to try and grasp onto Derek's wrist to stop him. "Fuck, Der-Derek," Stiles gasps out. "Give me a break."

* * *

The rest of the world seems to almost fall away as Derek's knot pulses inside of Stiles' body. It's a knife's edge of sensitivity, a pleasure so deep and _right_ that he feels dizzy with it. Derek can't imagine anything ever feeling this right again, which is horrifically depressing. He tries not to think about it, but it lingers oddly in the back of his mind as he gives himself in to the pleasure, his hips still slowly rocking as he pumps Stiles full of his come. 

Derek can't imagine ever catching his breath, can't imagine ever leaving Stiles' gripping, wet heat. He doesn't want to, doesn't even want to _think_ about it. Honestly, Derek isn't even consciously aware that he's not stopped stroking Stiles' dick. It's as grounding to him as Stiles' body wrapped around him, and eventually it becomes him moving on autopilot.

So when Stiles' hand suddenly wraps around his wrist and Stiles curses and says his name, it takes Derek a few seconds to really clue in. He's breathless and dazed and his instincts are screaming at him. Maybe he's a little knot-drunk on the whole thing, because seeing Stiles gasp, seeing him wince in sensitivity just makes Derek rumble a low growl in his throat. 

It's only the thin scent of sensitivity that makes him stop, his hand drawing away slowly to finally leave Stiles' dick alone. With a shuddering curse that sounds half-apologetic, half-reluctant, Derek sets his hand beside Stiles' head and leans in. 

It takes all of Derek's effort _not_ to bite that fucking perfectly-bare expanse of Stiles' throat. He does nose in against the solid line of Stiles' neck, breathes him in, and nuzzles in so close that Stiles will undoubtedly have beard burn on his skin for the next day or two. But Derek doesn't bite, and when he exhales, it's rough-sounding but at least somewhat controlled.

'Are you okay?' Is what Derek _means_ to say. He draws breath to say it, says it in his head, and he even meets Stiles' eyes before he says it. But when Derek hears himself talk, those _aren't_ the words he hears. 

"Let me buy you dinner sometime," is what he _actually_ says. Then he freezes, and stares blankly. His brain is being very unhelpful in catching up and realizing what an _awful_ idea that is to say when he's got his knot locked deep in Stiles' body.

* * *

Thankfully, mercifully, Derek takes pity on Stiles and lets go of his cock. Stiles' eyelids are blinking rapidly as he tries to calm down and maybe even piece himself back together. The haze of his Heat seems to have lessened and honestly, Stiles is amazed that the simple thing of having a knot up your ass could do that. But he's living proof. Like this, with Derek over top of him, Derek's dick locked in deep and his own come between the both of them, Stiles does feel more clear-headed (which he vastly prefers). 

There is the pleasant buzz of post-coital bliss and it only seems to heighten when Derek just leans in. The nearness is nice. The _closeness_ is nice. Maybe it's even intimacy. Stiles has obviously been close and near people after sex, but this is different. It feels different. Derek practically nuzzles against him, the scratch of his beard grounding and a reminder of who this is with (not that Stiles could even forget). 

Weakly, Stiles does manage to lift his arms and he loops them around Derek's neck because why wouldn't he? He's going to touch Derek as much as possible. Then it's Derek looking down at him, looking beautiful and gorgeous and all Stiles can do is gaze up with a dopey grin on his face. 

When Derek speaks, the words are simple to understand but they're still unexpected. Even Derek looks surprised by what he's said. Stiles doesn't make Derek wait and flounder, however. 

"Dinner? Like a date- _date_?" Stiles asks, but he doesn't wait for Derek to reply. His voice sounds exhausted and his throat even hurts a little. Probably from moaning too much. "Yeah, okay. Yeah. I'd like that." He then smiles up at Derek as his hands pet down Derek's shoulders. 

* * *

Derek's brain, quite frankly, screams at him as soon as he has enough mind to repeat to himself what he'd just said. Immediately he kind of wants to die. Just a little bit. Just enough to keep from needing to ever admit to saying something so damning while he's locked deep inside of Stiles and therefore unable to get away. 

It doesn't escape his notice that he'd not cleaned nearly as much as he should have in the shower. Maybe he's not streaked with dirt and mud and maybe there are no leaves and sticks in his hair, but that doesn't mean that he looks put together. He probably looks ridiculous, and Stiles doesn't _owe_ him anything here. 

Fuck, Derek hadn't even _asked!_ He'd just blurted it out, like an assumption, but he can't formulate the mental energy to add on a question mark, though his mind hisses ' _please?'_ at Stiles, like propelling it psychically is at all possible. 

Pleasure is still pulsing gently through him, which makes his attempt at being serious even more ridiculous, because it's not like his body can stop coming, or like his knot is just going to decide to go down immediately. It's not a pleasant situation, but mercifully, _thankfully_ , Stiles isn't in a vindictive mood.

In fact... he's in a downright _good_ mood, because there's no hesitation. While Derek might want to cringe at Stiles stressing that this is a _date_ , Stiles immediately agreeing to it is enough to make him freeze, blink, and then blink again for good measure. Derek falls silent for a long few seconds. Then, when he can't think of a reason why this might be a joke, he weakly asks, "what?" 

Hands slide down his shoulders, and a warm giddiness threatens to bubble up inside of him as Derek looks down at Stiles' smile. He doesn't even realize he's smiling back, small and unpracticed, but hopeful. 

"I mean... yeah? You'd-- yes?" He stops himself before he manages to ask 'for real', because he will never let himself fall so far. 

* * *

Stiles understands that now isn't the best time to possibly be making any future plans. Stiles has just discovered he's an Omega and he's going through his first Heat. They've had their crazy amazing romp with Derek touching and licking his ass and then even some cuddling and showering and fucking and knotting. A lot has happened. Stiles is actually stuck underneath Derek, or rather Derek's dick is stuck in his ass (not that Stiles is complaining, he feels wonderfully full and yet oddly still taken care of). But his Heat hadn't cared to show up at a more appropriate time, so why should this conversation?

While Derek might be surprised that he's blurted out what he's blurted, Stiles doesn't find it embarrassing at all. They are friends. They've just boned. The idea of going out for dinner is hardly _that_ crazy. Caught up within each other, drying come on their skin, Derek's come still _inside_ of him, there's not much they can do other than talk. Just laying here would be weird, wouldn't it? 

And really, Derek _wanting_ to go out on a date with him? Stiles is thrilled, actually. Maybe everything he's been feeling and thinking isn't just so one-sided after all. Derek looks taken back by his answer and Stiles looks up at him, wondering _why?_ Why is it such a shock that Stiles would want to? Don't they have some chemistry? A connection? He's pretty sure they have a sex-nection at any rate (but Stiles has an inkling that that's not the only connection).

But then Derek is smiling as it seems to click (at least that's what Stiles is going with). Derek smiling - genuinely smiling - is kinda rare. Usually it's just a twitch of a grin or smirk, but this is nice. Stiles' fingers travel up to the back of Derek's head and scratch lightly there. 

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to buy me dinner first _then_ fuck me, but I'll let it slide," Stiles jokes with fond exasperation, feeling more like himself. "Once your dick decides it's done with me, I'm pretty sure I could go for some delivery-something. Your treat."

* * *

Dinner doesn't mean anything beyond dinner, but that's more than okay. Derek isn't sure he'd really know how to think beyond dinner at this point. Sure, he could fantasize a little bit, but now that this is real, now that he's _been_ with Stiles in this fashion, he doesn't think he could really think about what happens after dinner. And, if dinner goes well, what might happen after the _next_ one. Or the next after that. It strikes him then that he's already thinking about it, that it's hard _not_ to, and a thrill shoots through him unbidden. 

Stiles is still smiling at him, maybe a little exasperated, but he's not upset. Derek watches amusement and something almost fond flicker over Stiles' face for a second before Stiles' hands slide up into his hair, scratching along his scalp with such gentle, pointed attention that Derek feels a prickle of sensation race down his spine. Unlike arousal, this one has him wanting to relax, to settle on top of Stiles and nose in against his throat, but he holds himself back. He's reasonably sure that laying on Stiles might squash him and Derek's not going to ruin this newfound thing by making Stiles uncomfortable enough to change his mind. 

The joke is so _Stiles_ that it makes Derek's smile widen, though not without a small roll of his eyes. He rocks his hips just once to get even, but he leans in and presses a quick kiss just under Stiles' jaw, nosing in against warm skin to breathe him in. Derek feels a little drunk on this. He doesn't think he can be blamed.

"For the record? Heat breaks the usual dating conventions. But... yeah." Derek lets out a soft breath of a laugh, warm against Stiles' skin. "I'll order way too much pizza for two people to eat. Should satisfy the Heat appetite you're bound to get soon."

* * *

There is a lightness that flits through Stiles that reminds him of the fairies. Maybe it's even giddiness. The idea of pursuing something with Derek has Stiles pumped. Yeah, it's also a little scary because trying for something means there is always a chance that it could go badly and Stiles could be disappointed (or even hurt, but Stiles' mind doesn't want to think about that). It could put undue stress on them because they already bicker, they already clash at times...

But who cares, really. You only live once and Stiles doesn't want to go and avoid this because it _could_ blow up in their faces. He scratches at the back of Derek's head, the joke demonstrating that Stiles is obviously feeling more like himself. Derek's response is a bigger smile (and god that smile is _gorgeous_ ) coupled with an eye roll. When Derek shifts, likely moving as a retaliation, Stiles shudders with a hoarse moan at the nudge to his prostate.

Derek's face comes closer and Stiles arches his head back to let Derek access his neck, both inviting and basking in the attention. His hands roam over Derek's back, still hungry to touch and learn Derek for as long as he can. Stiles doesn't really care about the usual dating conventions, but the idea of pizza sounds wonderful. He's already feeling a few pangs of growing hunger.

"Mm, good choice," Stiles affirms with a content sigh. "Rest, wait, order, feast and then you know... Feast in another way 'cuz I'm not done with you yet." And Stiles is looking forward to that. "And I don't think I will be after the Heat either, so, you know, you'd better get used to it."

Maybe being an Omega isn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos greatly accepted and encourage us to write/post more! (✿╹◡╹)


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